


Reverberations

by aesopianalex



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abuse, Abusive Dursley Family, Angst and Humor, Draco Malfoy & Harry Potter Friendship, Friendship, Gen, Good Draco Malfoy, Good Severus Snape, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Male Friendship, Snarky Severus Snape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-31
Updated: 2016-01-09
Packaged: 2018-04-18 07:31:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 63,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4697540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aesopianalex/pseuds/aesopianalex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The summer after the debacle at the Ministry, Draco Malfoy is sent to live with Harry Potter. He writes letters to Severus Snape, telling him how he's doing-- and what's really going on in Harry Potter's house.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"You...you can't be serious," croaked Draco, once he had found his voice.

The old man sitting across from him smiled serenely, his hands clasped beneath his chin, his eyes sparkling in the dim candle light.

"I am perfectly serious, dear boy," said Albus Dumbledore with a gentle smile, those eyes flickering with amusement as if his words had not just unraveled the semblance of a normal life Draco had been clinging to the past few weeks. The numb disbelief Draco had felt upon initially hearing the headmaster's words was quickly being replaced with anger, a familiar feeling lately more than ever.

"I refuse," snarled Draco, hands clenching into fists on the arms of the overly-squashy chair Dumbledore insisted on keeping in his office. Dumbledore didn't speak for a few moments, merely continuing to survey Draco through through his half moon spectacles.

"I understand your anger, Draco," he finally said, compassion crinkling those piercing blue eyes.

"You don't," said Draco, tone as harsh as he could make it. Perhaps if he disrespected the old fool enough he'd give up on this crazy scheme of his. And how could look at him like that, pretend to know what Draco was feeling? His father was in Azkaban, his mother was having some sort of mental breakdown, the Dark Lord wanted him for some sinister purpose no one would tell him about, and now, to top it all off, a muggle-loving old fool had decided the best way to express his pathetic pity for Draco was to ship him off to live with the cause of all his problems, Harry Bloody Potter.

"You're a smart boy, Draco," said Dumbledore, voice still infuriatingly calm. "Surely you understand the seriousness of this situation. Your mother contacted me, asking that you be kept safe from Voldemort's wrath--which, after what happened with your father at the Ministry, he will surely take out on you. If you value your life, you will accept the plans the Order has been working diligently on for you." Dumbledore's tone had turned sterner as he spoke on, and the anger surged up within Draco once again. So now he was supposed to be grateful for what was happening to him? He longed to leap up, to turn his wand on the old fool…

Just then, the large door that lead into Dumbledore's office opened with a rasp of wood on stone. Professor Severus Snape stood in the doorway, dark eyes quickly surveying the scene before him. Catching Draco's eye, he threw a warning glance at him before shifting his gaze to Dumbledore and inclining his head half a centimeter.

"Headmaster."

"Severus, how wonderful to see you," said Dumbledore with a grin, gesturing toward another squashy chair near his desk. "Take a seat, take a seat."

Severus strode over to the chair in a few steps, took the offered seat, and crossed his arms across his chest.

"Draco and I were just discussing his living situation this summer."

"I see," said Severus, his voice cool and even.

"He does not wish to live with Harry of course, but once he thinks it through I'm sure he will see the prudence in residing at Privet Drive. Licorice?" When neither of them answered, Dumbledore merely chuckled and popped a piece of the candy into his mouth.

"As detestable as Potter is, his home is one of the safest places available. The wards and spells that have gone into attempting to keep that idiotic boy alive are truly remarkable. Of course, considering his recent actions, they might all go to waste soon," said Snape with a smirk.

"I'm positive that Harry will remain alive and well throughout the summer," spoke Dumbledore, "as will you, Draco. Now, I must simply get myself something to eat. Care to join me?"

"No thank you," said Severus curtly as Dumbledore rose from his desk and made his way toward the door. Once it had swung shut behind Dumbledore, Draco turned toward Severus, a protest rising to his lips. Snape held up his hand before the words had the chance to escape.

"Silence," said Snape, rising from the chair. He paced a few times around Dumbledore's desk. "You will do as the Headmaster says."

"But-" began Draco, indignation welling up within him. Severus was one of the only people he had been able to trust over the past few weeks, his favorite professor, family friend, and godfather a source of comfort; the cool, level advice he had given to Draco in his more frantic moments had helped him get through his father's imprisonment and his mother's hysteria. Now it seemed like he wasn't really looking out for Draco at all, and it stung.

"Unfortunately, Potter's house is where you will be safest, which is my main concern. I am not going to just leave you there at the mercy of Potter and those idiotic muggles. You will write me every few days and inform me of conditions there, and if anything is amiss I will pay a visit and the situation will be rectified."

Well, that was slightly reassuring, though still not what Draco wanted to happen. "What about mother?" he finally asked quietly.

At these words, Severus stopped his pacing. "You realize your mother is having a difficult time right now. Medical attention is needed. The Order will provide the best care possible to her at a safe location. You are not to know her whereabouts, and she is not to know yours, for safety precautions."

Draco blinked back tears, sliding his gaze back toward the floor. What if something happened to his mother? When would he be able to see her again? Although he had his differences with his father, his mother had always been a constant presence in his life, putting his needs above her own time and time again. She was doing it right now.

"You will spend two weeks her at the castle while preparations are made. The headmaster will then apparate with you to Potter's house, and ensure you are comfortably settled in," Severus paused before adding, "I'm sorry this has happened, Draco." Draco just nodded, tears now gone. If he had to live with Potter, so be it. But he wasn't going to make things easy for him.

000

Harry Potter lay on his bed, the setting sun casting shadows across his bedroom wall. He had been back at the Dursleys' for two weeks now, and getting through each day had felt even more tiresome than his last encounter with Voldemort. The Dursleys knew something was off with him-his emotions had been swinging up and down violently, resulting in more clashes than usual with his relatives- but had not cared enough to inquire what was going on. They attempted to deal with him by alternating between locking him in his room and assigning him impossible amounts of chores. Today he was locked in his room.

Harry glanced at the letter lying unopened on his desk. It had arrived earlier that day in an a Hogwarts envelope, carried by an impressive looking Hogwarts owl. The slanted, looping scrawl on the envelope was unmistakably Dumbledore's. Harry could not bring himself to open it, recalling his violent explosion in Dumbledore's office after Sirius's death. The sick, empty feeling in the pit of his stomach had not left him since then.

Rolling over on his side, Harry closed his eyes, wondering if he would be able to get some sleep. He didn't want to think about the letter. It probably had something to do with Sirius. What if he expected him to tell the Dursleys about what had happened? Or was trying to console him, or expand upon what he had said in his office? Thinking about it just made him more tired, more sick.

As the last light faded from the room, Harry's breathing deepened. He hadn't been sleeping well lately, often waking up in the early hours of the morning with nightmares of Sirius's death echoing in his head.

The letter sat unopened on the desk. Harry Potter had no idea of the surprise that would be coming for him in two days.


	2. Chapter 2

The sun was unbearable. Harry stood up from his crouched position on the ground, rubbing his sore neck. He could feel the sunburn forming there, red and raw. He scowled, annoyed at the fact that he was in this situation yet again. Every single summer. It had already been over two weeks, and he was through with the Dursleys. He had been let of his room two days ago, assigned to a seemingly endless drone of chores. Right now he was weeding the garden, and his schedule for the rest of the day didn't look much better.  _Mow the lawn, clean the shed, blah blah blah…_ Harry had entertained the idea of simply refusing to do any of it, but hadn't given in to that impulse just yet. Better to avoid getting his uncle too mad. So far they had fought several times; it seemed Harry's temper shot up faster than ever before. But nothing too serious had happened yet. Harry always managed to reign himself in just in time, before anything bad happened.

The chores did keep him busy, too. Whenever he was locked in his bedroom he fell to brooding. He would replay the events at the Ministry over and over, until his anger had evaporated and he was left with even worse feelings. He preferred his anger to these bouts of depression, which sometimes left him staring at his bedroom wall for hours, not moving from a curled up position. That wasn't Harry. Harry was active, angry,  _alive-_ not some empty shell of a person who couldn't even get out of bed. Which was why Harry stopped rubbing his sore neck and returned to weeding, where his thoughts were pushed away by the immediate physical task.

He wasn't at his weeding long before a loud  _crack_ startled him, causing him to jump and spin around, hand darting toward his pocket before realizing the Dursleys had taken away his wand. And when he saw who was standing on his driveway, he nearly fell over. Dumbledore was standing there calmly, violet robes shockingly bright in the dull suburban landscape. Standing at his side was Draco Malfoy, the last person Harry would ever expect to show up at Privet Drive. Harry's mind frantically searched for some explanation for this. Perhaps Dumbledore was on his way to some business that involved Malfoy, and had brought him along beforehand while he visited Harry? Maybe that was it. Why would Dumbledore even bring Malfoy, though, when he could easily apparate wherever he needed to go? It wasn't like he had to drive places and Malfoy needed to come with to save time. A sick, anxious feeling knotted itself in Harry's stomach, and he was suddenly very sorry that he hadn't bothered to open the letter Dumbledore had sent him.

Dumbledore spotted Harry in the yard and started toward him with a smile, robes sweeping out behind him. Draco walked along several paces behind him, arms crossed and a vile look on his face.

"Harry, dear boy," said Dumbledore when he reached him, arms spread out wide. "Wonderful to see you." He stood there beaming at Harry, who suspected he looked rather stupid standing there, holding a shovel, dirt streaked across his face.

"Er," said Harry, unsure what to say. He glanced again at Draco, who looked even more disgusted than he had from afar. His sneer became more pronounced when he looked at Harry. "What exactly are you doing here?" Harry said, trying to keep his tone as even and as polite as he could make it, even though he clearly didn't want Malfoy anywhere near him or Privet Drive.

"Didn't you read my letter, Harry?" asked Dumbledore jovially, turning around to view the whole area of Number 4. "Charming azaleas," he said, nodding toward a bush near the window.

"Uhm, no," said Harry, heat rising toward his face, "I didn't get the chance."

"Ah," said Dumbledore, giving him that typical piercing look. "Well, if you had, you would have known I was arriving to drop off Draco today."

"D-drop him off?" stuttered Harry, that knot of anxiety beginning to churn even more fiercely in his stomach. "What do you mean?" He swallowed, hoping the panic he felt wasn't evident in his voice.

"Draco will be staying with you over the summer. The Order has made all the arrangements. After the events at the ministry, Voldemort might try to harm Draco or his mother. Draco will be safe here." Both boys had winced at this.

Harry couldn't do anything but stare at Dumbledore. There was no way this true, no way Draco Malfoy would be living with the Dursleys.

"The Dursleys would never agree to this," said Harry hoarsely, clutching at the hand shovel he was holding as tightly as he could.

"They already have. Or rather, they had no choice," said Dumbledore with a another beaming smile.

Harry could think of nothing to say to this. His mind seemed to have gone strangely blank, filled with a dull static buzzing. Just then, Petunia opened the side door, her shrill voice asking why in the world he had stopped working. She stopped screeching at him abruptly.

"For heaven's sake, what are you people doing outside? The neighbors could see you! Get inside this instant!" she whispered, her voice still managing to be annoyingly shrill. Dumbledore gestured for Harry and Draco to go before him. After they had all stepped inside the pristine kitchen, Aunt Petunia slammed the door, locked it, and rounded on them.

"You should've gotten me straight away. If the neighbors saw those clothes you're wearing, I don't know what I would've done," Petunia snapped at Dumbledore.

Dumbledore inclined his head. "My apologies, Petunia. I just spotted Harry in the yard and couldn't resist saying hello. I think the hedges in your yard hid us rather nicely from view," he said, a slight smile on his lips. Petunia merely continued to glare at him, arms crossed tightly across her chest.

"Perhaps you could show Draco where he'll be staying while I talk with your aunt, Harry?" asked Dumbledore, although Harry knew it was more of an order than a question. Harry nodded mutely, too numb now to even bother questioning the strangeness of this situation. He walked out of the kitchen and started toward the stairs, not bothering to check if Draco was following him. Murmurs of conversations flowed out of the kitchen, the words an indistinguishable blur.

Harry assumed Draco would be staying in his room. It's not like there was anywhere else to put him. Dudley would never share his room with a wizard.  _Perhaps he could stay in the cupboard under the stairs,_ Harry thought to himself wryly. Once they had reached the top of the stairs- the sound of Draco's footsteps had indicated that he was following Harry- Harry walked toward his bedroom and pushed the door open. He hadn't seen Draco surveying the locks and cat flap on his door, and he didn't want to see his expression when he saw the rest of the bare, cramped quarters Harry lived in during the summer. He closed his eyes for a moment, hoping vaguely that this was all some kind of twisted dream, when Draco's drawl broke the silence.

"What is this rat's nest?" he said, the disdain dripping from his voice.

"Where we'll be living," Harry said flatly, not bothering to look at Malfoy.

" _We'll_ ," said Draco, tone scathing. "You mean I have to stay in the same  _room_  as you?"

The numbness Harry had felt suddenly evaporated. He rounded on Draco, hands clenched into fists. "Yeah," he snarled. "I'm not exactly pleased about it either." Harry stalked out of the room, trying to get away from Draco as much as he was able to. He walked downstairs, back into the kitchen, and heard Dumbledore say something about the compensation Petunia was receiving.

"Ah, there you are Harry," said Dumbledore, resting a hand on Harry's tense shoulder. "Petunia and I have sorted everything out, and I'll need to be going soon. I trust you'll do your best to make Draco feel at home." Dumbledore patted Harry's shoulder, offered his hand to Petunia, and stuck it into his robe pocket when she ignored it.

"Farewell for now," said Dumbledore with a little wave. "I'll see myself out." Harry watched as he departed, strolling leisurely around the garden and out into the front, presumably somewhere outside the wards where he would be safe to apparate. Harry faintly heard a cracking noise a few moments later, and his stomach sank. Dumbledore had gone, and left him with this situation to make sense of. Petunia rounded on him, voice quivering with indignation.

"You'll keep that boy in your room, out of our sight as much as possible. I don't want to see him, I don't want to hear him. Same goes for you. And don't think this means you'll get out of your chores, because you won't," she said, stamping away into the living room. Harry stood there for a few moments, watching her go, before he walked back outside. He knelt down to get his shovel from the ground.  _And to think I was worried about sunburn_ , he thought as he set back to his weeding, completely unsure what he was going to do, emotions bouncing between anger and worry.

000

Meanwhile, Draco had explored his confined living area with distaste. The bare walls, sparsely furnished surroundings, and multitude of locks on the door all made the room look like a prison cell. Draco wondered why the room was like this, and if Potter usually lived here. He had expected Potter's room to be lavish, filled with expensive muggle trinkets from his relatives. This was the opposite of that, and his welcome from Potter's aunt had been less than warm. It was strange, not at all what he had imagined coming here would be like. For some reason, this was slightly unsettling to Draco, but he pushed those feelings away.

He sat down on the thin bed, running his hands up and down the muggle jeans he had been forced to wear. His mind wandered back to Potter, whose muggle clothes had been several sizes too big, and ripped and torn in various places. Perhaps he just wore them when he was doing muggle work, which he appeared to be doing when they had arrived. Again, that was strange. Those sorts of things were for house elves, not saviors of the wizarding world. It looked like Perfect Potter didn't get along with his muggle relatives, and that he was far from pampered.  _Good,_ Draco thought with a grin. That was exactly what Potter needed. His relatives probably saw how arrogant he was when he returned from school. Nothing to be unsettled about after all.

Draco's grin quickly faded when he realized that he would have to live here too. Those muggles had better not try to get him to do their work like they made Potter. Draco was no house elf, and a few lousy muggles weren't going to order him about. He wondered what he could do about these living arrangements; he had noticed there was only bed, and he certainly wasn't going to sleep on the floor. Draco got off the bed and started pacing around the room, making sure he explored every corner of it. When he passed the small window, he glanced out and saw that Potter was back at his work. It looked like he had some alone time. _I can write Severus_ , he thought, and reached into the bag he had brought with him for some quill and parchment.

_Dear Severus,_

_I've just arrived at Potter's. His aunt is an especially charming woman. The room I'm staying in is absolutely dreadful; it's practically a cell from Azkaban. Worst of all, I've got to share with Potter, but they've only given us one bed. Could you send something? I'll update you if anything else happens. Hope all is well with you._

_Draco_

Draco reread his letter a few times before rolling it up and sealing it. He suddenly realized he didn't have an owl. He would just have to use Potter's. The white animal was in a large cage in the corner of the room. Draco approached, wrinkling his nose when he saw that its floor was covered with owl droppings.

"Take this to Severus Snape," he said clearly. The owl surveyed him with large amber eyes, hooting softly. She ruffled her wings and settled herself in her cage, staring at Draco distrustfully. Draco sighed. Of course Potter's owl would be just as difficult as Potter himself. He was sure the owl wouldn't send anything unless Potter asked it too, which he would probably not be willing to do. Frustrated, Draco tried opening the owl's cage; he realized it was locked, and he hadn't even notice. Cursing, Draco wondered why Severus hadn't thought of this when he was usually so prepared. Then he remembered the letter Severus had pressed into his hand before he left. He went back to his bag, searching for the letter. Finding it, he tore it open, smoothed the letter out, and quickly began reading it.

_Draco,_

_I hope you've settled yourself in as well as possible. I realize the circumstances are difficult. The headmaster advised me against sending you off with an owl, but one from Hogwarts will be along shortly so you can write me. I assume I don't have to tell you to be careful in your letters. Don't let on that you're at Potter's house, and don't write out our full names. I'll figure it out. Good luck._

_Severus_

Draco read the letter over several times. He felt a surge of relief when he realized he would still be able to communicate with Severus. He also felt extremely stupid. How hadn't he realized he shouldn't write their names, in case his letters were intercepted? It was so obvious. Reaching for his quill and parchment, he rewrote his original message, writing only their initials. They seemed unassuming enough. He checked carefully to make sure he hadn't given away any important information.

After rereading his letter several times, he got up and stretched. It looked like Potter wouldn't be up here anytime soon, and the muggle woman wasn't bothering him. Perhaps he would lie down for a bit, rest his eyes. He hadn't been sleeping well lately. 


	3. Chapter 3

Draco woke up abruptly a few hours later. The room was darker now, and his first thought was that he had somehow slept late into the night. He sat up, rubbing his eyes, and blurrily stared at Potter. His opening the door was what had woken him up, apparently. Potter scowled over in Draco's direction before stomping over to his desk and sitting down in the chair there.

"Dinner will be ready soon," said Harry stiffly. Draco just nodded in reply, mind still fogged by sleep. At least he hadn't slept through dinner. He was  _starving._ He hadn't eaten much at breakfast that morning, consumed by his thoughts of coming here. He hadn't had lunch, either. Lost in his thoughts of food, Draco almost didn't hear Harry when he pushed back from his chair and told him that it was time to eat a few minutes later. He also didn't notice the way Harry's shoulders were tensed, or the fact that his hands were clenched into fists at his side.

"Start serving food," snapped Aunt Petunia, glaring at the both of them when they reached the kitchen. Draco was surprised at these abysmal manners, but Potter muttered to him to sit at the table. Draco did so, cautiously. He perched himself on the end of a chair, picking one of the three places that had silverware and cups of water set out before it. A few seconds later, Potter was back holding a bowl of salad. Draco was surprised when Potter began dishing it out to his aunt. Potter then set the bowl near Draco, who helped himself to a generous serving of the salad, which did look rather good. He watched as Potter returned with a bowl of pasta, and once again served his aunt before setting it down near Draco. Glancing at the pasta, Draco's mouth began to water; it was filled with tomatoes and garlic, and smelled delicious. He helped himself to an even bigger serving, ignoring the voice in his head that said he wasn't using his best Malfoy manners.

With a soft scraping sound, Harry pulled out his chair and sat across from Draco. Now that Potter was seated, Draco couldn't help but notice how odd the seating arrangements were. Draco and Harry were seated as far away from Aunt Petunia as physically possible, and she refused to look at them as she picked at her food.  _Doesn't he have an uncle and cousin?_ Draco thought, recalling the information Dumbledore had given him. Distracted, Draco barely watched as Harry added some food to his plate. When he glanced at Potter again, though, he noticed that Potter was eating very little; in fact, it looked like he had taken half the amount of food he had given to his aunt.  _How odd,_ Draco thought,  _especially since there's so much extra food._

The meal passed in an awkward silence, which wasn't much of a problem for Draco; he was used to tense family dinners at Malfoy Manor. Still, it wasn't what he had expected from Potter's family. He imagined that they would be as loud and obnoxious as Potter himself, curious to hear tales about Harry's life and pestering him with questions and adoration. And that they would be at least slightly interested in their new houseguest. Instead, Aunt Petunia was treating Draco as if he were invisible. Again, Draco felt unnerved, but he brushed it away. He didn't care what a bunch of muggles thought about him. It was much better this way.

When Aunt Petunia was finished eating, she stood up, scowl firmly in place, and stomped away. Harry watched her go.  _At least she didn't say anything horrible_ , Harry thought, although the stony silence worked just as well to convey her contempt for him. Harry felt exhausted. Today's chores had been especially gruelling, and he still had to do the dishes, and then there was the extra problem of Malfoy to deal with. All he wanted to do right now was crawl into his bed and sleep for twelve hours or so, but that wasn't an option. With a sigh, he rubbed his eyes beneath his glasses, pressing hard. The only slight positive of this night was the fact that Uncle Vernon and Dudley weren't here. Aunt Petunia had called Vernon at work and told him about the situation, saying he should go out to dinner somewhere tonight. Although he hadn't been inside when she called, Harry could imagine Vernon's rage. He wasn't too keen on seeing him when he came home, sure that he would meet the brunt of his uncle's anger. Dudley was staying over at one of his friend's houses.

Rising from the table, Harry started stacking up dishes. Bringing a few over to the sink, he said, "You can go upstairs," to Malfoy without looking at him, letting a stream of water from the tap drown out the sound his footsteps. He vigorously starting scrubbing the dishes, trying not to think of how he was going to deal with Malfoy. One problem at a time.

After he washed the dishes, dried them, and wiped down the table, Harry turned the lights off in the kitchen and made his way upstairs. He paused before his door, steeling himself with a deep breath. He had faced Voldemort less than a month ago. He could deal with Draco Malfoy.

000

Draco hadn't been sure what to do when he got to the room. Although he had taken a nap there today, there was still the issue of the bed to sort out. What if Potter didn't want him sleeping there? Draco certainly wouldn't want him sleeping on  _his_  bed. Draco had settled for standing by the window, which he opened. A cool breeze danced across his face, pushing his hair back slightly. Draco closed his eyes, imagining that he was on his broom at Malfoy Manor, flying above the expansive grounds. He wasn't sure how long he stayed like that, but soon he heard the sound of Potter entering the room. He turned around to face him, uncertain for once of what to say. He usually had an insult ready to throw at Potter, but today's events had thrown him off.

Harry sat down heavily in his chair. He was exhausted. Even though it was only eight, all he wanted to do right now was sleep. He might even be tired enough to get through the night without any nightmares.

"I'm going to bed," he said. Malfoy just looked at him.

Harry stepped over to his closet and threw his shirt off, grabbing his pajamas from the floor as he left for the bathroom. He returned, hair washed and teeth brushed, ready to fall into bed. That was when he realized the room only had one bed. Malfoy was watching him again, but he didn't say anything. Harry didn't say anything either, but pulled some spare sheets out of his wardrobe. He made a makeshift bed up on the floor before switching off the light, and then settled himself down on the floor.

Draco blinked, his eyes adjusting to the darkness, and watched in surprise as Harry slept on the floor. It was a decent thing to do; Draco wouldn't have done it for Harry if their situations had been reversed. He turned back to the window, gazing at the dull muggle landscape that greeted him. He stayed there for about an hour longer before going to bed. He lay in bed for a while, staring at the ceiling, pondering the situation he had been put in with Potter.

A sharp rapping sound woke both boys up the next morning, accompanied by Aunt Petunia screeching at Harry to make breakfast. Harry groaned, pulling his glasses on and getting up from his rather uncomfortable position on the floor. Draco rolled over in bed, trying to fall back asleep. Too bad Potter was making so much noise as he stomped over to his closet and changed. Draco heard the door shut none too softly as Harry left. With a sigh, Draco sat up. He rubbed his eyes as his mind buzzed into alertness. Today would be his first full day at Potter's house. What would he be expected to do? Should he join them downstairs for breakfast? Draco decided that he would wait; if he were expected to join in, he supposed they'd call him down. But if he could avoid it, he would rather not repeat the awkward eating experience of last night.

After mulling over his situation for a while, Draco rose, stretching as did so. He walked over to the corner of the room where he had placed his trunk and selected a muggle outfit from his neatly packed stacked of clothes. As he was buttoning up his shirt, a swell of loud, angry words from downstairs made him pause. It was definitely a man's voice, though Draco couldn't make out what he was saying. Curiosity getting the better of him, Draco crept quietly toward the door, pushing it open slightly. The angry hum of words started to untangle itself as he listened.

"...can't  _believe_  what you're doing to this family. Endangering us all, bringing in a stranger to our house, making us put up with this nonsense...the burden you're putting on us...you'd better behave, boy, I'm warning you…"

Draco had heard enough. He closed the door, drowning out the angry tirade. That had to be Harry's uncle, the one who hadn't shown up for dinner last night. Draco sat down on the bed, trying to sort out his thoughts. It sounded like Potter's uncle didn't like him at all. His tone of voice had been absolutely furious.  _Well, so what?_ thought Draco,  _That's probably just what Potter needs. He's so arrogant at school, he must be the same here._ Trying to reassure himself, Draco couldn't help but feel uncomfortable. It wasn't exactly like Potter had even done anything. The man just seemed ticked off that Draco was here in the first place, which hadn't been up to Harry. Draco decided that he would wait until the man left before he went down to eat.

 


	4. Chapter 4

Harry stood at the sink, allowing the searingly hot water to wash over his hands. Uncle Vernon had just left for work, muttering the whole time under his breath. Harry unconsciously relaxed a bit when he heard his uncle's car backing out of the driveway. At least he wouldn't have to deal with  _that_ for a few more hours. He plunged his hands back into the soapy water, allowing the sting of it to blank his mind for a few moments. While he was mechanically washing and drying the dishes, Draco cautiously walked downstairs and entered the kitchen. He saw Harry bent over the sink and glanced at the food still on the table before clearing his throat.

" _What?_ " snapped Harry, turning around with a glass clenched in his hand.

Draco raised an eyebrow, keeping his voice cool as he said, "I was only wondering if I could eat now, Potter."

"I don't care what you do," said Harry, steel still in his voice as he turned back to the sink.

Taking that as a yes, Draco sat down, grabbed what appeared to be a clean plate from the table, and started helping himself to some eggs. He noticed that Harry's family was nowhere to be seen. Although he was curious, he thought it was wise not to speak to Potter at the moment. He watched with interest as Potter moved about the kitchen cleaning up, eventually coming over to the table to clear up the food. When Draco was done, he set his fork down uncertainly; should he bring his plate to the sink? Leave it there for Potter to pick up? His question was answered when Potter stalked over and roughly grabbed his plate.

"Is there anything I should be doing?" Draco asked a few minutes later, still seated at the kitchen table.

"I told you I don't care what you do," Harry muttered. Then, after a few moments, "Just stay away from my aunt and cousin, okay?" Potter's tone was slightly softer as he spoke the last words, and Draco was unsure what to make of that.

"Alright. I'll just stay in the room then," Draco said, finally rising from the table. When Potter didn't comment, Draco made his way back upstairs and into the room. His face lit up when he saw a large, tawny owl perched on the windowsill. Grinning, he rushed over to it and untied the scroll attached to its leg. His fingers fumbled slightly in his eagerness to open the scroll, but once he had it open he sank down onto the bed and began to read.

_D,_

_I hope this owl has arrived as quickly as I instructed. I also hope you have been settling as well as possible into your new surroundings. Let me know how you are._

_-S_

Draco grinned at the words in his hands, eked out in Severus's familiar spiky handwriting.  _To the point as always, he thought to himself_ , shaking his head, grin still in place.

He went to his trunk, finding the spot where he had placed the letter he had written the other night. Draco wondered if he should add anything to it. Maybe he should tell Severus about the tirade he had heard from Potter's uncle this morning? He didn't want to make a big deal out of nothing; the man had probably just been stressed out, maybe frustrated with Potter over some previous incident. He decided he would just send what he had written so far. If anything else happened, he could always update Severus. Rolling up his letter, Draco attached it to the leather pouch on the owl's leg.

"Send that to Severus, all right?" he said softly. The owl ruffled its feathers haughtily before gracefully flying out the window. He heard an indignant hoot from the corner of the room, and spinning around caught sight of Potter's owl glaring at him reproachfully. Laughing, Draco sat back down at the desk, spirits bolstered. Perhaps things wouldn't be so bad here.

000

Harry's spirits were completely opposite of Draco's. Uncle Vernon had decided that Harry wouldn't be having any meals for the next two days, and his stomach gave a loud grumble as he violently yanked a weed from the ground. Once again, Malfoy was ruining things for him; it was like being at Hogwarts, except a million times worse. For once, Harry actually agreed with Uncle Vernon about something. He wished Draco weren't here, either, but it wasn't like he had any say in the matter.  _Oh no,_  thought Harry, ripping out another weed,  _I never get any say in anything. Dumbledore just gets to pull all the strings, and I get stuck in situations like these._

Harry's temper boiled very close to the surface all day as he went about his chores. His stomach rumbled every now and then, giving him an audible reminder of his hunger. He knew from experience that thoughts of food would occupy his mind all day; tomorrow the thoughts would cease a bit, but he would feel weak and tired. And he'd probably have to do more chores on top of it.

Finally, after what felt like ages, Harry had finished his chores. He went inside, careful not to track any dirt on Aunt Petunia's spotless floor. When he made his way into his room, he spotted Draco sitting at the desk, a heavy textbook open before him. Harry didn't think Malfoy was the studious type, but didn't comment as he grabbed some clothes to change into. Although they were still oversized and ragged, at least they weren't streaked with dirt or soaked with sweat. He washed up in the bathroom and returned to the room to see that Draco had shut the book and was leaning back easily in the chair. Not in the mood for conversation, Harry ignored him as he sat heavily on the bed.

"Do you always have to do so much work, Potter?" drawled Draco, breaking the stony silence.

"What's it matter to you?" said Harry roughly. He wished he had his wand with him. What he'd give to be able to curse Malfoy, let off some of his anger onto the prat…

"Just wondering. Since I'll be living here and all."

Harry didn't reply. He leaned back into his pillow, staring at the ceiling above him. Although he wanted to fight with the boy, he knew it was better to ignore him; if they got into an argument and started shouting or anything, Aunt Petunia would furious, and then Uncle Vernon would hear about it. And he was already ready to kill Harry. Closing his eyes, Harry tried to erase these angry thoughts from his head. He was exhausted...if he could just sleep for a few hours…

Draco thought Potter was just being rude and ignoring him, but Draco soon realized the boy had actually fallen asleep. Well, he had been working hard all day; Draco had spotted him a few times from the window trudging about the yard. Again, he wondered if this was a normal routine. Did Potter really have to work like a house elf everyday? Perhaps he was being punished for something, although Draco wasn't sure what he could have done to deserve this. If his mother knew he was with muggles who made a wizard work like this, she'd have him out of there in an instant. The thought of his mother pierced a hole in his balloon of happiness. He wondered how she was doing, where she was. Was she happy? Or at least as happy as she could be, all things considered? He recalled the frenzied letters she had written him after the events at the Ministry. Usually neat and orderly, her handwriting had been sloppy, tear marks staining her Malfoy stationary. Those letters had been his first clue that something was wrong with his mother. Later, Severus had taken him into his office and explained that things were going worse than Draco had anticipated; his mother was having a nervous breakdown. Severus's voice had been gentle as he explained that something would have to be done. " _I'll do everything I can for her, Draco. You know I care deeply for Narcissa. And you,"_ Severus had said, his long fingers cupping Draco's chin as he looked him in the eyes. Draco had believed Severus then. He had to believe him now.

Glancing at the clock, Draco saw that it was nearly six o'clock. He wondered what was going to happen with dinner. Would he continue to eat separately from Potter's relatives, or would he finally meet his uncle and cousin? Draco realized that the uncle clearly didn't care to have him in the house, but he would have to meet him sometime. Right? Even though he didn't want to admit it, Draco was curious about Potter' relatives. Something wasn't right here, and he wanted to get to the bottom of it.  _But why?_  Draco thought to himself.  _It's not like I care about Potter. I should be glad if his relatives don't like him. It's his fault my mother's unwell, anyway._  That was right. He shouldn't care about Potter's moronic relatives. Draco was stuck here because of him, cut off from the magical world. Potter was his enemy, and always had been.

With his resolve against Harry strengthened, Draco turned back to the Potions textbook he had been browsing earlier. However, a moaning noise caused him to spin around in his chair. Potter had started to move around restlessly in the bed. Draco watched in a sort of sick fascination for a few minutes. Then Potter spoke, his voice choked, " _Sirius, no_." Draco continued to look on uncertainly as Potter thrashed about, clearly caught up in a nightmare about that blood traitor. Malfoy hesitated, unsure whether he should try to wake Potter up or let him ride it out.  _I don't care if he's having a bad dream. But I don't want to deal with all this noise,_ Draco thought. He rose, walking carefully over to the bad and giving Harry a shake. When that didn't work, he shook him more roughly, grinning slightly as he did so. He was just trying to wake him up after all.

Harry awoke with a start, eyes wide open. He stared straight ahead, not even looking at Draco. Draco opened his mouth to say something, but at the moment the bedroom door banged open. Both boys started as Aunt Petunia entered the room, looking furious.

"What have I told you about making so much noise?" she screeched, arms crossed over her chest. "You're lucky your uncle wasn't home to hear that, or you'd be dealing with him right now. I ought to tell him." When neither boy said anything, she continued to glare at them before saying, "I don't want either of you coming down for dinner tonight." She then stalked out, slamming the door behind her.

Harry banged his head against the bed's headboard before sitting up, placing his head in his hands. Draco watched him uncertainly, once again unsure of what to do. He wished he hadn't sent that letter off to Severus so soon.

 


	5. Chapter 5

Harry's heart was hammering in his chest. He gripped handfuls of his hair as he rested his head on his knees, trying desperately to calm himself down after that nightmare. It had been extremely vivid, as though Sirius were alive once more- and then had died all over again. Harry was no stranger to nightmares, but the ones involving Sirius were even worse than the ones about Cedric, if that was possible. Finally steadying his breathing, Harry lifted his head, looking at the door that had just been slammed shut by his aunt. He bit his lip, hoping she wouldn't follow through with her threat to tell Uncle Vernon. All Harry's righteous anger from earlier had dissipated, and he knew he couldn't muster up the energy to face his uncle. His stomach gave an unpleasant lurch when he realized that Draco Malfoy was sitting on the bed next to him, meaning he had just witnessed everything that had happened.

"That give you a laugh?" Harry asked. He had intended for the words to come out harshly, but he just sounded tired.

"No," said Draco quietly, after a few moments pause. "It didn't."

In fact, Draco felt slightly ill. He didn't know how to talk to Potter after what had just happened. It felt like something had shifted.

"Oh," said Harry, which, he thought a few seconds after saying it, sounded rather stupid.

With an expression on his face that Harry hadn't't seen there before, Draco got off the bed and walked back toward the desk. He absently flipped a page in his potions textbook and pretended he was reading it. He stayed there for a while. As the hours slowly passed, the room steadily darkened around them. Draco made no move to turn on the light, assuming that Potter had drifted back to sleep. If he had been paying attention, he would have noticed that Harry's deep breaths from earlier were absent.

000

The next morning, Draco woke up with his head stuck to the pages of his book. He sat up stiffly, his neck and shoulders aching. Draco yawned, running his hands through his hair (which was much less sleek now that he was living with Potter; he hadn't had time to keep up with it). A quick glance around the room revealed that Potter was gone, and that it was nearly nine. Draco sluggishly got up and grabbed his clothes and got ready, pausing at the foot of the stairs to make sure Potter's relatives weren't in the kitchen. The coast seemed clear, so he entered.

Draco had been right. No one was there, not even Potter. He noticed that a bowl of oatmeal, some toast, and a glass of orange juice had been left out on the table. Assuming it was for him, Draco sat down and began to eat the slightly cold oatmeal. However, after not having dinner last night, it tasted great to him. Draco was so engrossed with his meal that at first he didn't notice the boy who walked into the kitchen.

Dudley Dursley had recently returned from school in the best physical condition of his life after a season of being boxing champion. However, his mental condition hadn't been as great; after last summer's dementor attack, he had been a lot less of his typical self, a change many thought was for the better. At school, he had stepped back from his bullying, spending much more time by himself. He often dwelled on the dementor attack, recalling the cold clammy, hopelessness that had enveloped him. For the first few months afterward, he had nightmares about it which would wake him up drenched in a cold sweat. He hadn't had a nightmare in a while, but he still couldn't shake his memories of that evening. Dudley also couldn't forget the person who had made that awful feeling stop: Harry. For the first time in his life, Dudley had been grateful for Harry Potter. Dudley often thought about what would have happened if Harry hadn't saved him; perhaps he would have never been able to feel right again.

This newly acquired respect for Harry had led Dudley to take a hard look at their shared home life. When he was younger, it had never crossed Dudley's mind to treat Harry well; he had simply followed his parents example, since, after all, they knew everything. However, Dudley had realized that this blind acceptance of his parents' actions was wrong, and he should have realized it earlier. Feelings of shame had overwhelmed him several times over the course of the year as he thought about the things Harry had been subjected to: living in a cramped cupboard, getting little food, long hours of chores, and, worst of all, complete contempt, lack of love, and often violence from the people who should have been taking care of him. And Dudley himself had been complicit in this. Perhaps he couldn't be blamed for this when he was younger and merely doing what his parents did, but he was certainly responsible for his actions as a young adult. Coming to terms with this, Dudley had resolved that this summer would be different. He would at least try to help Harry. So when he saw Draco sitting at the kitchen table, he thought this could be a chance to do so.

Grabbing his mug of tea, Dudley sat down at the kitchen table. Draco looked up from his meal and appraised his new guest.

"You must be Potter's cousin?" he said, although it was more of a question. He normally would never have a conversation with a muggle, but his nagging curiosity about Potter's life kept him from acting on his pureblood impulses.

"Yeah. Dudley Dursley."

"Draco Malfoy," said Draco, with a slight smirk; he wondered how he was going to get the information he wanted out of this muggle. That shouldn't be too difficult, should it?

"You go to school with Harry?" asked Dudley, sizing Draco up over his mug of tea.

"I do," Draco said, inclining his head slightly.

"Are you friends?" Dudley asked, "Because.."

Draco thought of cutting him off before he could finish and letting him know that under no circumstances was he friends with Potter; however, he held back, wondering what the muggle was about to say.

"Because," he continued, somewhat uncertainly, "I think he could use a friend who knows what's going on here."

Draco unconsciously leaned closer to Dudley. "What do you mean?"

Dudley sighed, rubbing his head before answering, "You've been here for a few days, right? You must've seen what things are like for him."

Draco quickly processed what Potter's cousin was saying. "I thought maybe he was in trouble for something."

Dudley looked down at his hands. "No...it's...that's how they always treat him," Dudley finally managed, looking back up at Draco. "And maybe you could tell someone about it at that school you two go to. Maybe someone could help him."

Draco turned this information over in his mind. The last few cobwebs of doubt he had about Potter's relatives were swept away. Everything he had seen was true, not the result of frayed nerves or Potter's bad behavior; his relatives really felt this way about him. However, something didn't make much sense to Draco.

"Hasn't Dumbledore checked up on him? Or anyone else?" Draco asked. Potter was Dumbledore's golden boy. If Potter were being mistreated at home, why hadn't the man spotted it by now? Surely he wouldn't leave something as precious as the boy who lived up to the whims of a bunch of muggles.

"No one's come here. " said Dudley. "And he clearly hasn't told anyone at that school, since nothing's been done." Draco was mulling this over when Dudley spoke up once again.

"I know you probably won't be able to talk to anyone until you go back to school, so maybe you could just….just keep an eye on Harry? You probably know he has a bit of a temper. And it's really not good for him to get angry with my dad. Things could...get bad for him. So maybe you could...I don't know," Dudley rubbed his head once more, clearly struggling with finding the right words. "If you notice him getting upset, talk to him, or something?" Dudley finished rather lamely. He looked at Draco, hoping he was able to convey what he meant to the magical boy who was somewhat intimidating to him.

"I'll do what I can," Draco said, his half finished oatmeal now completely cold.

"Thanks," Dudley said, pushing his own chair back. "Well...I've gotta go," he added, putting his mug in the sink and heading out, his walk a bit faster than normal.

Draco stayed at the kitchen table for a while, trying to figure out what to do with the information Dudley Dursley had just given him. After a while, he put his dishes in the sink and made his way upstairs.

 


	6. Chapter 6

Draco had been browsing through his Potions book for a few hours when a sharp rap at the window caused him to look up. The large, regal owl that had arrived before was here once again, tapping smartly at the window to be let in. Grinning, Draco opened the window and untied the scroll from the owl's leg when it had settled onto the windowsill. Draco eagerly ripped open the letter, reading it where he stood. He then sank into his chair, rereading the letter more slowly.

_D,_

_I received your last letter with no problems. The owl I've sent you is one of the best; I've instructed her to wait patiently until you've finished your letter to me. I was sorry to hear about the problems you've had. Although nothing can be done about the aunt (who is an exceptionally vile woman), I've spoken to the headmaster about your furnishings. He assured me that the muggles had been compensated for your care, which should have gone toward ensuring comfortable and suitable living arrangements. The headmaster has assured me he'll take care of the issue, though. If for some reason the muggles are resisting, let me know in your next letter. I'd also like to know how you're doing. Things here are normal; I've been able to get a good start on my summer's work. I look forward to your next letter._

_S_

Draco reread the letter a few more time, making sure he absorbed everything. Seeing Severus's familiar writing was wonderful; Draco felt an intense surge of emotion that took him by surprise. The past few days had been rough, and it was nice to hear from someone he knew genuinely cared about him.

Draco gathered some quill and parchment, thinking of what he wanted to say to Severus. How much should he tell him, exactly? He knew he had to phrase it carefully, and he didn't want to worry Severus too much, but….

While Draco was lost in thought, Harry entered the room. Draco started when he heard the door open, jarred out of his reverie.

"What's that owl doing here?" asked Harry, surprised. He glanced at Hedwig and saw that she was glaring moodily at the new owl, which made Harry grin slightly.

Draco wondered if he should lie to Potter, since his feelings toward Severus were no secret. However, for some reason he thought it would be best to just tell the truth.

"Severus wrote me," said Draco, keeping his tone even.

" _Snape_?" said Harry incredulously.

"Yeah," said Draco, shrugging, "He's my godfather." When he said the word godfather, Harry winced. Draco felt a tinge of guilt, recalling the nightmare he had witnessed where Potter had called out for his own godfather in pain.

"Er...right," said Harry, turning away slightly.

Draco noticed that Potter's hands and face were smeared with dirt. Clearly, he had just spent another day working on muggle chores. Potter muttered something about washing up and left the room, leaving Draco with a few more minutes of solitude. However, Potter soon returned, shutting the door behind him with a soft click.

"He's in the Order, right?" asked Harry after a few minutes. "Has he told you about anything that's going on with that?"

It took Draco a few seconds to realize what Harry was saying. "No, he hasn't said anything," said Draco slowly. "He can't say anything too important, anyway, in case the letter gets intercepted."

"Oh," said Harry, sounding disappointed.

Draco was surprised that Potter had actually asked him a question in a tone that wasn't hostile; this was the most they had civilly spoken since he'd arrived. Draco briefly debated if he should tell Potter about the conversation he'd had with his cousin, but decided against it. It was probably better not to press his luck.

"You've finished your work early," said Draco, wondering if the conversation could continue.

"Yeah," said Harry, sitting down heavily on the bed. "Just got lucky, I suppose. My aunt didn't have that many chores for me today."

"What else could there possibly be for you to do?" Draco asked.

Harry laughed. "You'd be surprised. My relatives can always find work for me."

"Well, I suppose the wizarding world is safe in case we need a house elf to defeat the Dark Lord."

Harry laughed again. "Yeah. I suppose so."

The boys lapsed into silence, but it wasn't like the tense, uncomfortable silences they had sat through before. Things were calm. Draco smiled slightly as he went back toward Severus's letter, rereading it again before he started writing his own.

000

A few hours later, Draco had finished his letter to Severus. Harry had drifted off to sleep sometime soon after their conversation, and his deep breaths were calm and untroubled. Draco had offered the Hogwarts owl some water, which it had gracefully lapped up. Potter's owl had hooted indignantly at this, glaring at both Draco and the intruding owl. Draco glanced up at Hedwig and grinned when he saw that her back had been turned to him. He reread his letter one more time, just to be sure it was perfect.

_S,_

_Thanks for your letter. The owl is wonderful, although she's making P's owl jealous, which is quite amusing. Thanks for speaking to the headmaster about the bed situation. The muggles haven't changed anything as of yet, but I'm sure they will once they hear from the headmaster. I've been doing alright. Of course, things here are nothing like they are at home, but I'll be able to manage. The muggles don't really interact with me, which is fine. I've mostly just been reading and working on assignments. The way they treat P is a bit odd, though. Nothing like I'd expected. They're a bit short with him, and most of the time he's doing tasks like a servant. I'm not really sure what to make of it. That's about it for me; nothing too interesting going on. Can't wait to hear from you._

_D_

He thought he'd managed to convey his misgivings about the muggles in a way that wasn't too alarming, and had assured his godfather that he was doing okay. Draco wasn't really sure why he was being so cautious. If he had been in this situation a year ago, or even a few months ago, he probably would have caused a big fuss and demanded that he be brought somewhere else. However, seeing what his mother had been dealing with had mellowed him out a bit. Before, he probably wouldn't have included any information about Potter either, or cared that his relatives treated him so poorly. He wasn't sure why he even included it now, but there was some gnawing worry for the boy that had rooted itself in the back of his mind. He couldn't explain it.

"Here girl," said Draco, rising and tying the letter securely to the owl's leg. "Take this to Severus." The owl hooted once, then drew itself up proudly and flew out the window. Draco watched her fly away for a minutes, her figure swooping farther and farther away. While he was standing at the window, a car pulled into the driveway of Number 4. A large, unpleasant looking man pulled himself out of the small car, a briefcase in his hand.  _That must be Potter's uncle,_  thought Draco, surveying the man with distaste. He noticed that the man's face was red, and that his hand clenched his briefcase tightly. He strode to the door quickly, cursing loudly as he fumbled with his keys. Worry blossomed in Draco's mind; there was no doubt that this man was extremely angry. Draco heard the door slam a few moments later.

Potter woke up from his nap immediately, glancing at the clock next to him with a groan. The sound of voices speaking loudly could be heard below them, the words muffled into an incoherent buzz. A few minutes later, a brusque male voice called out, "Get down here. Both of you," loudly enough for Draco and Harry to hear from upstairs. Harry glanced quickly at Draco.

"Listen to me," Harry muttered quickly, getting up from the bed, walking over to Draco, and grabbing his wrist, "Don't say anything. Leave it up to me." Draco nodded mutely; his voice seemed to have deserted him. Harry, nodding, let go of his wrist and stood up, leading the way downstairs with his shoulders tensed. Draco followed behind him.

The scene that greeted them downstairs was thick with tension. Uncle Vernon stood in the middle of the kitchen, a letter clenched in his beefy fist. His face had quickly progressed from red to purple. Aunt Petunia stood next to him, her face pinched and arms crossed over her chest, glaring at the boys as they entered the kitchen. Uncle Vernon surveyed them beadily before drawing himself up to his full height and taking a breath.

"Do you know what I got today?" said Uncle Vernon menacingly, shaking his fist with the letter clenched in it.

Harry was thinking quickly. Uncle Vernon had clearly received some upsetting news in that letter, but Harry had know idea what it had to do with him or Draco.

"Well?" growled Uncle Vernon.

"Er, no," said Harry honestly.

Uncle Vernon advanced upon the boys, and Draco took a step back nervously. Harry stood his ground, though he felt a flicker of nervousness.

"A  _letter,"_ said Uncle Vernon, shaking his fist. "From your lot. And do you know what it said?"

A realization dawned on Draco. He thought that this letter was probably from Dumbledore, asking the muggles about the beds. But he hadn't told Harry about that, who was looking at his relatives with genuine puzzlement.

"Er, no," repeated Harry, which made his uncle give a humorless little laugh.

"It said," he began, emphasizing his words carefully, "That we, who have kindly taken both of you in against our wishes, are not providing for you properly." Harry could sense the pressure building behind his uncle's words. Although he was keeping it together now, he was soon going to explode. He wondered if there was a way he could get Malfoy out of here; the last thing he wanted was for the Slytherin to see this.

"That…old man of yours has requested that we provide you with another bed," said Uncle Vernon, a vein in his forehead pulsing unpleasantly. "Now, where would he get that idea?" Harry glanced quickly at Draco, who seemed to be trying to silently convey something to him.

"Which one of you did this? Made me receive this ridiculous letter at my place of employment, where I work to provide for  _you,_ when I should be providing for my son?"

Draco knew this was his fault; he should have told Potter about it, especially since he had sensed something was wrong with the muggles. He opened his mouth, ready to confess, when Potter spoke.

"It was me," said Harry defiantly, his eyes bright. "I don't want to give my bed for him," he added, throwing a glance at Draco.

Uncle Vernon grabbed Harry roughly by the collar, giving him a shake. "Of course it was you."

"I saw him lounging about the other day," added Aunt Petunia sourly. "Walked in on him sleeping in the middle of the day."

"You," snapped Uncle Vernon to Draco, "Get out of here. I don't want to hear a sound from you." Draco looked at Harry, who nodded almost imperceptibly, his uncle still gripping his shirt. His legs felt rather shaky as he retreated upstairs, hearing Uncle Vernon resume shouting at Potter the moment he left. He entered the room and sat at the desk, his mind racing.

Potter knew nothing about the letter from Dumbledore; that had been all Draco's doing. Not to mention the fact that he had given up the bed for Draco...why would he lie like that to his uncle? For Draco's sake, someone he hated? Draco couldn't understand. Potter was taking the fall for him...it was so decent of him.  _Bloody Gryffindor,_ he thought, but his words held no spite. He closed his eyes, weakly resting his head on his hands.

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

As soon as Draco had retreated, Uncle Vernon rounded on Harry once more. He threw the letter out of his hand; it landed on the table, green ink visible on its crumpled form. Harry cursed himself internally as he glanced at it. He should've checked with Malfoy what he was writing in those letters. Of course the Slytherin would want his own bed, considering where he came from. Harry was sure Draco was used to his own four poster bed, and living in luxury and comfort.  _He's not going to get that here_ , Harry thought darkly.

Harry was jarred out his thoughts when Uncle Vernon grabbed the collar of his shirt once again and gave him a shake, causing his glasses to slip down his nose a bit. This close to the his uncle, Harry could see every detail in Uncle Vernon's purple face. The man was shouting at him again, and flecks of spit hit Harry's face.

"It's always something with you, isn't it, boy?" he asked, punctuating his words with sharp shakes. Harry let the words wash over him. Yes, it always was something with him…his thoughts flashed back to Sirius against his will, taking him by surprise. If it hadn't been for him, his godfather would still be alive…

Harry wasn't really listening to Uncle Vernon's angry tirade. The words were nothing more than a vague buzz to him. He knew that if he had been listening, he might have talked back, might have struggled, might have made things a lot worse for himself. But he wasn't listening. He thought of Draco casually mentioning Snape, his own godfather, today. He was in trouble because of Snape, in a way, but the thought didn't make him angry; Draco had his godfather watching over him, which Harry would have too if he hadn't been so foolish…

A particularly harsh shake knocked Harry back into the moment. "Are you even listening to me?" growled Uncle Vernon.

"Yes, Uncle Vernon," said Harry automatically. At that, his uncle pushed him roughly away from him; Harry hit the wall hard, the contact making him momentarily dizzy. Before Harry knew what had happened, Uncle Vernon had slapped him hard in the face; once, twice. He tasted blood in his mouth.

"Get out of my sight," he spit out, turning toward Aunt Petunia, who had watched the whole scene silently with her arms crossed. "You'd better behave yourself, boy, or things'll be a lot worse than that," he threatened. "And no meals."

Harry nodded mutely, feeling disconnected from the entire experience. He only felt the pain in his cheek distantly, the dull throbbing a shadow of the pain he would feel later. Ignoring the glares from his relatives, he left the bright lights of the kitchen and made his way upstairs. He didn't notice that Dudley was peeking at him from his doorframe, a concerned expression etched into his face.

Draco sprang to his feet as soon as Harry entered the room.

"Potter," he said, looking him up and down quickly. Draco noticed several things all at once; the red mark on Harry's face, the blood on his mouth, the marks on his arm, the general shaken look about him, the way his eyes seemed very far away. Draco didn't know what to say.

Harry looked at Draco, not saying anything for a few minutes. He didn't have the energy to deal with this right now. What he needed was to sleep, to block everything from his mind for as long as he could.

"I'm going to sleep," Harry said, voicing his thoughts. He didn't notice the way Draco was looking at him.

"Take the bed," said Draco weakly. It was all he could think of to offer.

"Can't," muttered Harry, walking toward the light switch and flicking it off. "They might check," he added, settling himself down on the crumpled pile of sheets on the floor. Draco stood in the dark, watching as Harry rolled on his side away from him. He stood there for a while.

000

Harry woke up early the next morning with his heart pounding and his cheek throbbing. It was still dark in the room, the sun only just starting to rise. He rolled over onto his back and stretched out, trying to shake the nightmare image of Sirius from his mind. After a particularly painful twinge from his face, Harry lifted a hand up to his face and touched his cheek. Wincing, he sat up and tentatively moved his tongue around his mouth. He tasted blood.

Last night's confrontation with Uncle Vernon came back to him as he sat there. Slumping back onto the floor, he closed his eyes. He must've fallen asleep with his glasses on. They were crooked and digging into his skin, but he didn't fix them. Vaguely, he thought about what he was going to say to Malfoy. He thought about what Malfoy was going to say to him. If Harry had been in one of his angry moods, he might have picked a fight with Malfoy. But he was in one of his other moods, the kinds that left him lying on his bed and staring at the ceiling for hours. He wished he were angry. He wished he could pick a fight.

Harry must've fallen asleep again, because he woke up once more to the pain in his cheek. The room was much lighter now, and he could make out the outline of Malfoy hunched over the desk. He groaned, moving his glasses and rubbing his eyes.

Draco turned around when he heard Harry's voice.

"You're awake," Draco said.

"Yeah," said Harry, sitting up again.

"Your aunt didn't come to wake you up today," commented Draco, surveying Harry.

Harry nodded. "I'll probably be locked in for a few days." After a few minutes, he added, "Which means you will too. Sorry."

Draco was quiet for a bit, trying to get up the nerve to say what he wanted to say. He had thought it over all morning while Potter slept.

"Listen, Potter," he finally began. "I owe you an explanation. I sent that letter to Severus before I knew...how..how your relatives were. I didn't know they'd react like this," Draco paused, before hastily adding, "I'm sorry."

Harry watched Draco as he struggled to put his words together. When Draco apologized, he thought he had misheard; was Draco Malfoy actually apologizing to him?

"It's not your fault," he said, looking at his hands. "He would've done that sooner or later." Harry meant what he said; with his uncle, it was only a matter of time.

"That's not right, Potter. You were  _bleeding_ ," said Draco, honestly concerned, although he didn't admit it to himself.

Harry gave a hollow laugh.

"It's not funny, Potter."

"It's very funny," muttered Harry. And it was funny, if you really thought about it; Harry was locked in with Draco Malfoy, probably the last person on earth he'd want to see him with the Dursleys. It was hilarious, if you had a dark sense of humor.

"Does Dumbledore know about this, Potter?"

Harry shrugged. "He knows I don't like it here. He knows my relatives don't like me. I'm not sure how clued in he is on the details." Harry wasn't sure why he was sharing all of this this with Malfoy. Maybe it was because he felt so tired, and it was easier than resisting. Maybe it was because Malfoy already knew how bad things were and there was no point in hiding. Maybe it was because Malfoy was the only person here who didn't despise him, strange as that was.

"I think you should clue him in on the details."

Harry gave another humorless laugh. "No way."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Why not? Do you really like being a martyr that much?"

"It's not about that," said Harry with a sigh, wrapping his arms around his knees. "I have to stay here. For the same reason you do. It's the safest place I could be. A few slaps is nothing compared to what Voldemort could do."

Draco winced when Harry said Voldemort, but didn't comment on Harry's use of the name. "If Dumbledore knew what was happening, I'm sure he could move you somewhere, even if it's a bit less safe. He's a powerful wizard."  _And he could get me out of here_ , thought Draco.

Harry shook his head. "No," he said, voice hard. Draco looked at him with exasperation. Harry sighed, voice softer. "I can't go somewhere else and put other people in danger, all right? Not after Sirius. It can't happen again," he said, looking down at his hands again.

Draco thought about this. He understood where Potter was coming from; he would probably do what he had to to keep his friends and family safe. In a way, he was, since his mother had been assured that he was as safe as possible. He knew this gave her a certain peace of mind, despite the problems she was having. However, he also knew that she would want him out of here if there was even a chance of his being mistreated. Draco was pretty sure that Potter's friends would want that, too.

"I still think-" began Draco, but Harry abruptly cut him off.

"No," he said. "And don't tell Snape about this in your letters, okay?"

Draco was surprised. He had been planning on telling Severus, but he felt some strange obligation to Potter, who had taken a fall for him, after all. And maybe this was as bad as things would get. It was only for a few weeks, right?

"Okay," said Draco. "I won't tell him."

 


	8. Chapter 8

Severus Snape walked briskly through the halls of Hogwarts, his mind preoccupied with the letter that was clenched in his hand. He had received it earlier that morning, during breakfast in the nearly empty Great Hall. There was only one table set up during the summer for the few teachers who chose to remain at the school during the holidays. So far, Severus was the only guest who had stayed at the castle longer than a few nights, although McGonagall was currently staying here for a few days before heading off to India.

Most Hogwarts professors chose to spend their summers travelling around the world, going to conventions for their various fields of study or simply vacationing. Severus, however, was an exception to this rule; he liked to stay at Hogwarts to work on potions for a few weeks, or even longer, depending on the difficulty of his work. He sometimes retired to the small, isolated cottage he kept in the country, although that was becoming rarer and rarer as the years passed. With the Dark Lord on the rise, it was better to stay closer to the protection that Hogwarts provided and the counsel of Dumbledore, although the headmaster was away at the moment on important Order business.

As Severus strode toward his destination, he replayed the words of Draco's letter in his mind:  _Thanks for your letter. The owl is wonderful, although she's making P's owl jealous, which is quite amusing. Thanks for speaking to the headmaster about the bed situation. The muggles haven't changed anything as of yet, but I'm sure they will once they hear from the headmaster. I've been doing alright. Of course, things here are nothing like they are at home, but I'll be able to manage. The muggles don't really interact with me, which is fine. I've mostly just been reading and working on assignments. The way they treat P is a bit odd, though. Nothing like I'd expected. They're a bit short with him, and most of the time he's doing tasks like a servant. I'm not really sure what to make of it. That's about it for me; nothing too interesting going on. Can't wait to hear from you._

Severus knew Draco well, and he knew when something was wrong or when the boy was hiding something. And there something off about this letter. Having been a close confidante of the Malfoys', Severus had spent many hours at Malfoy Manor, watching over Draco as he grew older, learning his personality quirks, and trying to help guide him toward adulthood. He had to admit to himself that there had been some bumps along the road as far as Draco was concerned; Severus had had to work especially hard to offset some of the damage his parents had done. Narcissa cared deeply for the boy, but her way of showing it sometimes resulted in spoiling Draco and had left him with a sense of superiority and entitlement. Lucius, on the other hand…

Frowning, Severus thought about the difficult relationship between Lucius and his son. Severus knew Lucius cared for Draco, but he had a different way of showing it than his wife. Lucius had certain expectations regarding his only son and heir, and that amount of pressure wasn't healthy for the boy; Severus suspected that Lucius's expectations played a part in some of Draco's lesser qualities. The arrogance Draco often displayed was an attempt to please his pureblood father, to show him that he was worthy of his affection and the Malfoy name. It was something Severus didn't like to see.

When he was alone with the boy, Draco often showed a different side of his personality. Severus had made it clear that he wouldn't tolerate any attitude from the boy, or indulge him in his claims to superiority. Draco had resented this at first, but soon had grown used to Severus's differences from his parents, and had even come to appreciate them. Beneath the proud exterior Draco projected, Severus had come to know a boy who was eager to please and learn, and who was much more sensitive than he let on.

Which was how Severus knew there was something wrong about this letter. When Draco had any real problems, he tended to minimize them. Of course, when he encountered minor problems or frustrations, or before he realized the magnitude of some task he set out to accomplish, he would proudly boast about how he would deal with them, or threaten to get his father involved; but when anything was really wrong, Draco reacted differently. Severus recalled one of these instances now.

Draco had been young, maybe nine or ten. It had been before he started at Hogwarts. Lucius had instructed Severus to tutor Draco, starting when he was seven, and he had conducted lessons once a week ever since then. On this particular day, Severus had arrived early for their lessons only to find Draco on the verge of tears, with a stack of books and parchment scattered on the floor around him. The books belonged to Severus, and were far more advanced than what Draco was learning right now.

" _What were you doing touching my books?" Severus had asked sternly, peering down at the small boy below him._

_Draco's lip had trembled before he answered. "F-father said I need to be top of the class when I get to school. I've j-just been trying to get ready."_

_Severus had stared at the young boy before him in amazement. "How long have you been looking at those books for?"_

" _A few weeks," Draco had sniffed, continuing to look at him fearfully. Severus had then helped the boy up, levitated the books back in their places, and explained to Draco that he only needed to focus on what they were going over now, no matter what his father told him._

Draco had grown up considerably from that young boy he once was, but over the years Severus had observed this tendency toward secrecy many times. He had an odd feeling that this was one of those times; something was off at Potter's.

Severus had been so lost in thought that he hadn't noticed he had arrived at his destination: McGonagall's office. He knocked on the door, quickly but loudly, and heard Minerva's steely voice call out for him to enter.

"Severus," Professor McGonagall said, peering at him from over her glasses and setting down the parchment she had before her. "What can I do for you?"

"Do you have time to talk?" Severus asked, smoothly sliding Draco's letter in his pocket. After a nod and a gesture to take a seat from McGonagall, who looked slightly confused, Severus settled himself into the hard backed chair across from her.

"What do you want to discuss, Severus?"

Severus paused before answering. "I was wondering," he began, "if you know anything about Potter's relatives."

Professor McGonagall seemed surprised by the question; her eyebrows shot up, and her lips pressed themselves into a narrow line.

"They aren't the best type of muggles," she answered shortly.

Severus took in this information. "What do you mean by that?"

"Why are you so curious?" McGonagall asked, eyeing Snape with suspicion for the first time.

"I am sure the headmaster has told you about the...situation this summer?"

"Oh, of course," answered McGonagall, her expression softening somewhat. "I'd forgotten, my mind was on that blasted transfiguration theorem."

Severus inclined his head slightly. "You were saying?"

"Well, it's no secret that they don't care for Potter as well as they should," she answered gruffly. "They're not too fond of anything magical. Potter doesn't talk much about them." There was a flash of emotion in her eyes, but they quickly returned to business. "They've taken him in though, and I suppose they look after him. The headmaster has made sure of that, so I'm sure Malfoy will be fine," she added, though she said it with distaste.

"How was your trip?" Severus asked, changing the topic, although he processed this new information quickly as McGonagall droned on about transfiguration. After a few more minutes of Minerva explaining her latest research, Severus mentioned checking on his potion and bowed out of the conversation.

McGonagall's disapproval of Potter's relatives had been a surprise to Severus. As he walked back toward his quarters, he thought about what he would say to Draco in his next letter. Perhaps a visit was necessary.

000

The next few days at the Dursleys' were difficult for both boys. They were stuck in the cramped room for most of the day; Aunt Petunia came up a few times a day to let them out to use the bathroom and to bring water. Sometimes, she brought scraps of food, but she made it clear that they were only for Draco. Draco had shared the meager rations, but they wouldn't have been enough for even one person. Both boys were extremely hungry.

Draco wasn't used to this. He had never gone this long without food, accustomed to the delicious courses served both at home and at Hogwarts. He also wasn't used to confinement like this; his room at home was twice as big as Potter's,  _and there was nothing to do here_. Honestly, Draco thought he was going to go crazy if he had to look at this gloomy room anymore.

Potter seemed to be faring better than he was, Draco thought, somewhat crossly. Although he still felt bad about the rough treatment Potter had received from his uncle, his own feelings of hunger and restlessness were making him a little less sympathetic than he been before. He was annoyed and irritable, and often snapped at Potter when they interacted. He felt slightly guilty about this, but couldn't help but take his frustration out on the boy who had been his enemy for so long.

Right now, Draco was irritably flipping through his potions book, not reading anything. His stomach gave a loud grumble.

"Can't you ask any of your friends for food? You have an owl right there," he asked Harry, who was sitting on the floor with his head leaning against the bed, eyes closed.

Without opening his eyes, Harry shook his head. "Can't. They've forbidden me from sending letters."

"How can they  _forbid_ you," Draco sneered.

"They've put a lock on her cage," Harry said, eyes still closed.

"You just let them lock up your only means of communication?" Draco asked. He knew he certainly wouldn't have let that happen.

Harry opened his eyes, which flashed with anger for the first time. "I didn't exactly have a choice, alright?"

"You could've tried to stop them," said Draco, although he knew he wasn't being fair; he had seen what Potter's relatives were like firsthand.

Harry opened his mouth to make an angry retort, but a hoot from Hedwig stopped him. He realized that their voices had gotten dangerously loud, and he didn't want to give his relatives any more reasons to keep them locked up longer. He closed his eyes again and let his head thud against the bed, trying to calm himself again. He knew from experience that getting himself worked up didn't do anything but make the situation worse.

Harry wished he could sleep...he was sick of seeing Sirius's dead face every time he managed to drift off. He hadn't been able to get in more than a few hours' rest lately, and combined with the attitude Malfoy was giving him, it was taking a toll on him.

With nothing else to do, both boys went to bed early that night; Draco hadn't offered Harry the bed since they had been locked in, but Harry didn't mind that much. Either way, on the bed or on the floor, he was going to spend the night tossing and turning. However, despite his misgivings, Harry's exhaustion won and he slid into sleep.

Draco woke up sometime in the middle of the night, disoriented. He felt weak and tired, and a headache was pounding in his right temple. He settled himself down on his pillow, ready to return to sleep, when he heard what had woken him up: whimpering.

Looking over the edge of the bed, Draco saw that Harry was twisted up in his sheets, the soft whimpering sound getting louder and louder. With a small sigh, Draco crept out of bed and knelt by Potter's side; he knew that it would probably increase the time they were locked in here if Potter woke up his relatives.

Draco couldn't help but feel badly about the way he'd treated Harry when he saw him like that, completely vulnerable and trapped in a bad dream. Sleep made him look younger. After Potter made another whimpering sound, Draco grit his teeth and shook him. Harry's eyes snapped open, and he started when he saw Draco kneeling so close to him.

Draco put a finger to his lips, signaling to Potter that he needed to be quiet. The panicked look left Harry's eyes, and he nodded slightly. "Sorry," he mumbled, attempting to straighten the twisted sheets.

Draco didn't respond, but climbed back into bed.  _We have to get out of here_ , was his last thought before he drifted off into an uneasy sleep.

 


	9. Chapter 9

Harry paused, wiping sweat from his face, before returning to the weeds in front of him. The day was hot and sticky, but Harry didn't mind; he was just glad to be out of his bedroom. If he had to spend one more minute in there than he already had, he might've gone insane. It wasn't just the lack of food that got to him (which was pretty bad on its own), but the fact that he was stuck with Malfoy had made everything ten times worse. He couldn't believe he'd thought he was actually beginning to like the Slytherin. After being confined together, they had slipped right back into their old ways, both boys snapping at each other at the slightest provocation.

Harry had no memory of waking up last night; he had returned back to sleep shortly after his nightmare, so he felt strangely rested today. It was probably the longest stretch of sleep he'd had in a while. Unexpectedly, Aunt Petunia had also given him some toast and eggs this morning, so he was feeling full as well. All things considered, he was in a relatively good mood: he was free of Draco for the next few hours, he was well rested, and his stomach was full. This was about as good as it got at the Dursleys, even if Harry did have a long list of chores to do.

And the list was very long. After three days of inactivity, the tasks Aunt Petunia needed him to do had really piled up. At least it kept his mind occupied; he had been dwelling far too much on unpleasant things lately. And it gave him an outlet for some of his anger. Viciously ripping up the weeds peppered around the Dursleys' yard was oddly therapeutic.

0000

Draco was feeling a bit better, too. Aunt Petunia had allowed him to have a normal breakfast, and Draco had eagerly stuffed his face. He hoped he'd never have to deal with eating so little food ever again. Not to mention the confinement. He wanted to get out and stretch his legs, to breath in some fresh air outside of that stale bedroom. No, he definitely wouldn't be spending today up in Potter's room.

Aunt Petunia had gone out shortly after Draco had finished breakfast, and Dudley was out somewhere as well, so Draco was provided with the perfect opportunity to explore the house. Of course, wandering around a muggle house wasn't his idea of fun, but he wasn't sure how far the wards extended outside. He also didn't want to be around Potter; things had been extremely tense lately. Draco felt a twinge of guilt about the way he'd snapped at Harry, but pushed it away immediately. It was just Potter, after all.

He brought his plate and glass to the sink. Stretching out his long limbs, Draco paused before making his way to the living room.

This whole place was spotless.  _Thanks to Potter_ , Draco thought. He had to give Potter credit; his skills were as good as any house elf's. Which was surprising, considering Harry's general messy appearance and lack of organization at school.

The living room was boring, with a brown leather couch and cream colored walls. The large TV in the center of the room was somewhat interesting to Draco; he had heard that muggles rotted their brains out in front of these things. He could believe it, since the Dursleys spent most of their evenings in here, and they weren't the sharpest bunch. He touched it tentatively, but nothing happened.

Looking around, Draco noticed framed pictures covering the walls. Drawing nearer, he observed pictures of Dudley and his parents over the span of their lives. There was Vernon and Petunia getting married, the plump baby Dudley, Dudley learning to ride a bike, Dudley at the zoo, Dudley and his parents sitting in front of a Christmas tree...but Potter was nowhere to be seen in any of the pictures. Draco supposed he shouldn't be surprised, considering everything he'd seen here. Still, it was a bit cold; it was like the Dursleys wanted to erase Harry from their lives. Which, Draco thought, they probably did.

Seeing nothing else of interest, Draco left the living room and started toward the hallway. The door of the cupboard beneath the stairs was slightly ajar; absently, Draco went to shut it, but something caught his eye. Curiously, he pushed the door further open and ducked inside.

A bright flash of color had caught Draco's eye; on closer inspection, it was a crayon drawing of a rainbow. Draco wondered what it was doing here, which seemed like a place for storing cleaning supplies, although only a few dusty brooms stood in the corner. Peering closer, Draco saw that a name was printed on the bottom of the picture in childish, sloppy letters: Harry. What was Potter's picture doing down here? Surely the Dursleys would have thrown it away instead of storing it here? They must not have known it was here. He wondered why they didn't use the space. As Draco looked around, he saw a set of broken toy knights huddled in a corner, next to a pair of socks.  _What was this?_

Seeing nothing else of interest, Draco backed out of the cupboard and shut the door with a soft click. He decided he'd ask Potter about it later, if he wasn't in a bad mood. And after a long day of chores, he might be. Draco glanced outside and saw that Potter was dutifully slaving away. He thought briefly about going outside, but decided against it. Instead, he went upstairs.

000

Harry had spent nearly the entire day working outside, and the Dursley yard was spotless: the weeds were picked, the grass was mown, the flowers were fertilized and watered, and the shed was organized. An oddly satisfactory ache filled Harry's limbs. Throughout the day, he hadn't even thought about anything unpleasant, so absorbed in his labor as he was. Aunt Petunia had given him some water earlier, but he was still thirsty. He made his way inside, ready for a cool drink.

Aunt Petunia frowned when she saw but gave him some water, telling him to get upstairs and clean himself out so he could help with dinner. Harry gave a cursory "Yes, Aunt Petunia" before going to his room.

000

Malfoy had had no choice but to spend some time in the room, after all. The rest of the Dursley house had turned out to be astonishingly boring. However, a letter from Severus had distracted him from his boredom.

The Hogwarts owl had been waiting at the windowsill, as usual. Severus's letter was brief and to the point, and thinking of it now made Draco slightly anxious.

_D,_

_I know something was amiss in your last letter; kindly inform of how you're really doing._

_S_

Draco tapped his fingers on the desk, wondering what he should do for the thousandth time. His godfather had always been able to see through him in a way no one else had, but Draco thought he had phrased his last letter carefully enough to escape concern. Clearly not. If Draco was being honest with himself, some part of him had wanted Severus to ask him about what was going on here; as much as he tried to play it down himself, he knew that things weren't right. Of course, Severus hated Potter, that was no secret, but if he thought there was even a chance of Draco being harmed, he would get them out of here.

But then there was the problem of Potter himself, who had made Draco promise not to tell Severus anything. Draco didn't know why he felt so guilty about what he wanted to do: tell Severus the truth. Some small part of him had grown to respect Potter; he still didn't like him, but he couldn't deny that he was stronger than he looked. Sticking up for Draco like that had been brave, especially considering the way Potter felt toward him. And he hadn't seen the Dursleys physically hurt Potter again; perhaps it was an isolated incident?

Draco knew that wasn't true, though. Dudley had told him as much. Draco sighed. He'd never imagined he'd have such complicated feelings toward Potter…

Harry entered the room at that moment, startling Draco.

"Hey," he said casually, grabbing a different pair of oversized clothes to change into. He threw a look toward the owl on the windowsill but didn't comment as he walked out again. He came back ten minutes later, washed up and changed.

"Mind if I look at that book?" Harry asked, taking Draco by surprise.

"My Potions book?" Draco asked in disbelief. Malfoy had always assumed Potter hated Potions, considering his abysmal performance in the class.

"Yeah," said Harry, slightly embarrassed. "I mean, if you mind you don't have to".

"It's not that I mind," Draco said, "I just thought you hated Potions. And where's your book?" Now that he thought about, none of Potter's school supplies were up here.

"I don't hate it," Potter muttered. "I just never learned it properly. You know, Snape doesn't exactly make it easy…." Harry trailed off, perhaps remembering Draco's relationship with the man. "Anyway, the Dursleys locked my stuff up."

Draco raised his eyebrows, not sure why he was surprised, considering everything he knew about the Dursleys. "Why?"

"Dunno...well, because they hate me. And magic," Harry said with a slight grin. "But I thought it was odd they locked everything up, since they didn't last summer. It must've been because you were coming, though," Harry said, thoughtfully. He hadn't really given the matter much thought, wrapped up in other, darker, thoughts, but that seemed to make sense.

"Er, sorry," said Draco, feeling that slight worm of guilt in his stomach again.

"Don't worry about it," said Harry, and his tone carried no malice. "They're always doing stuff like that." Harry said it easily, but the words made Draco uncomfortable.

"Do you know where they've put it? Maybe we could nick it," Draco said.

Harry paused. "In the cupboard under the stairs, I suppose," he said, a strange look clouding his face.

"No, nothing's there," said Draco, recalling his visit earlier that day.

"How d'you know?" asked Harry, surprised.

"I passed by earlier today. The door was open and something caught my eye in there, so I checked it out."

Draco didn't understand why, but Harry looked extremely uncomfortable at Draco's words.

"What caught your eye?" Harry asked, his voice several notches lower than it had been before. Draco, confused, answered slowly.

"There was a drawing. It was pretty bright."

Harry looked like he was going to throw up. Draco, concerned, asked, "Is something wrong, Potter?"

Harry just shook his head. Draco thought he did so a bit vigorously, as if he were trying to shake away some bad thought. "So, can I have a look at your book?"

Draco nodded, handing over the thick textbook. Harry turned his face away and focused on the book for the next few hours.

 _That was definitely odd_ , Draco thought.

000

A few hours later, Aunt Petunia called Harry downstairs to help with dinner. Reluctantly, he put down the book, glancing at the owl that was still there. He didn't comment on it.

"Come down for dinner around seven, okay? The Dursleys should be done by then. I'll make sure they save you some," Harry said. Draco nodded.

When Harry shut the door behind him, Draco returned to the problem before him. He had written two different letters to Severus, and was unsure of which one he should send: the one telling the truth, or the one that was a lie.

Draco had originally written the truthful letter as a way to get out all his frustrations at the situation, with no intention to send it. After that release, he had written the letter he thought he was going to send:

_S,_

_I'm not sure what you're talking about, S. Sometimes you read into things too much. Of course, I'm not happy here. But that's nothing to get worked up about. The muggles have been treating both of us fine lately. Anyway, I've been reading up a lot on Potions lately; I've had a lot of spare time. I'm sure you'll be impressed with my new knowledge. Let me know how you're doing,_

_D_

He thought that was an adequate cover up. He thought he came across as exasperated at Severus's probing, something that happened often in real life. But something was holding him back from actually sending the damned thing.

"You don't mind waiting a bit longer, do you?" he asked the owl, who hooted and drew up her wings. Draco took that as a sign to take his time.

He sighed, pushing the letters away from him and reaching for his Transfiguration textbook. He needed a distraction.

000

Harry had finished setting the table and had placed the food on the table when the front door banged open loudly. Harry looked up quickly to see his uncle stomping into the kitchen. Uncle Vernon was much later than he usually was, and the food was probably slightly cold, but Aunt Petunia had insisted that they wait for him.  _Uh oh_ , thought Harry. That definitely wasn't good.

Aunt Petunia jumped up as soon as her husband came in. "Brandy?" she asked him. Uncle Vernon grunted in confirmation; it had definitely been a bad day at the office. Harry hoped the drink would soothe him somewhat.

Uncle Vernon deposited himself in his chair, his beady eyes zooming in on Harry. Dudley entered the kitchen at that moment, taking a seat next to his father.

"Well, what are you waiting for, boy?" snapped Uncle Vernon, eyes still on Harry. Harry hurried to serve his uncle, spooning some of the grilled vegetables he had prepared onto Vernon's plate. Aunt Petunia returned and set the brandy before him, smoothing out her skirt before taking her place at the table. Harry served both her and Dudley before heading back for the main course, a breaded chicken Aunt Petunia had prepared. Once everything was served, he retreated back toward the kitchen counter, ready to make himself as quiet as possible. He knew from experience what Uncle Vernon was like when he was in one of these moods.

Aunt Petunia chattered on mindlessly throughout dinner, gossiping about the neighbors and the employees at the local grocery store. Uncle Vernon grunted a few times, but otherwise remained silent throughout Petunia's rambling. Dudley glanced between his parents a few times nervously. Aunt Petunia asked him about his day, and Dudley responded, talking about the good workout he had gotten in before visiting his friend. The conversation was littered with tense silences, and Harry almost breathed out a sigh of relief when they had finished eating.

Harry was clearing the plates when Uncle Vernon turned his full attention on him.

"What did you do today, boy?" he growled.

Harry tensed slightly before answering. "Chores, sir."

Uncle Vernon snorted. "Are you sure you did them right? The last few times have been terrible."

Harry felt a slight stirring of anger in his stomach. They all knew that wasn't true. Harry devoted all his energy toward his chores. "Yes, sir," he answered, teeth clenched.

"Are you getting an attitude with me?" Uncle Vernon snarled, eyes locked tightly on Harry's turned back as he deposited some dishes in the sink.

"No, sir," Harry responded.

"You look at me when I'm talking to you."

The room was thick with tension. Harry slowly turned, trying desperately to remain calm. He didn't want a fight today.

Uncle Vernon eyed Harry, a glint in his eye. He slowly rose from the table, pushing his chair back with an unpleasant scraping sound.

"You better watch yourself, boy," he said. "I don't want you slacking off. We wouldn't want you to end up like your no good parents, now would we?"

Harry's eyes snapped with anger; he clenched his fists, rage coursing through him. How dare Uncle Vernon…

Before Harry knew what had happened, Uncle Vernon's fist had connected with his head, causing him to stagger sideways into the wall with a thud. Harry's head was spinning as the pain shot through him; he felt a sickly drip of blood sliding down his face.

"Don't give me that look," said Uncle Vernon, fist raised again. Harry opened his mouth, an angry retort on his lips, but was hit again before he could say anything. His glasses slipped down his face, stars dancing before his eyes. That had been  _hard._

"Dad!" Dudley's voice rang out across the kitchen, causing both Harry and Uncle Vernon to look at him in amazement. "Come on, let's go watch the game, it's starting soon."

Uncle Vernon lowered his fist, still glaring at Harry.

"Okay, son," he said slowly. "You," he added to Harry, "Get out."

Harry staggered away, feeling lightheaded. Aunt Petunia didn't look at him as he left.

000

Draco, absorbed in his Transfiguration book, looked up and noticed that it was past seven. He stood up and stretched before padding downstairs, but the angry rumble of voices made him pause at the foot of the stairs.

Draco watched the whole scene unfold; he thought briefly of intervening when the oaf hit Potter, but quickly decided against it. He wasn't a Gryffindor, after all, and he had the idea that his presence would probably make things worse. Still, he couldn't help but feel sick at what he saw. Even if it was happening to Potter. When Harry staggered into the hallway, Draco was ready.

He grabbed Potter's arm, draping it over his shoulder, and helped him get upstairs. Potter was too out of it to try to push Draco away, or even comment on the fact that he was helping him. When they entered the bedroom Harry groaned, finally pushing Draco away as he slumped into his chair.

Sitting down seemed to help Potter come to his senses. He slowly raised a hand to face, tentatively touching it. He winced. Draco watched, feeling faintly sick; blood was streaming from Potter's nose.

"Do you…do you want me to get you something for that?" Draco asked, his voice slightly high pitched.

"I know what do," Harry ground out. He had pinched his nose, head leaning back. In a few minutes, the bleeding had stopped.

"Actually," Harry muttered, "Get me some paper towels. Make them damp."

Draco nodded, and collected them from the bathroom. As he ran them beneath the sink, his hands shook slightly. He came back to the bedroom, shutting the door behind him. He handed Potter the paper towels; Harry muttered a quiet thanks before mopping his face up.

"Potter‐" Draco began, but Harry cut him off.

"Did you see everything?" He asked quietly. Draco nodded. Harry only groaned in response.

"Why is that owl still here?" Harry asked a few minutes later, breaking the silence.

"Oh‐ I forgot to send my letter," Draco said. "I'll do that now." Harry nodded slightly, closing his eyes. Draco approached the desk, his heart thudding in his chest. He had a choice to make, but Draco knew that the choice had just been made for him.

He picked up both pieces of parchment, sliding one of them into his pocket and tying the other one around the owl's leg. As the owl soared off, Draco hoped he had done the right thing. He recalled what he had written:

_S,_

_You're right. Things are bad here. P's relatives are awful; they've starved him, made him slave away all day, and even hit him. I'm worried about what's going to happen. I think things are getting worse._

_D_

A/N: Well there it is! Please let me know what you guys think. Is everyone in character? Any guesses about what's coming up? Also, I tried to make this chapter longer and update quicker since I'll be going back to school soon and the next chapter might take me longer, so please let me know how it went!

 


	10. Chapter 10

Harry heard Draco sending off his letter, but kept his eyes closed. He was focused on the pain in his face. It definitely wasn't the worst he'd had, but that didn't really make dealing with it any easier. There was also the hot, swooping sensation of shame he felt at the fact that Malfoy had witnessed everything that had happened. He wondered how long it would be before the knowledge that the famous Harry Potter couldn't even stand up to a muggle spread throughout the school...

Harry heard Malfoy sit down heavily on the bed. Unclenching his hand, Harry pushed the crumpled paper towels onto his desk. He had mopped up most of the blood.

"Did that help?" Draco asked, his voice a little more even now.

Harry opened his eyes, staring at the boy on the bed across from him. Draco looked slightly ill, and he was even paler than normal.

"Yeah," Harry finally said. "A bit."

The boys sat in silence for a while. They didn't really need to speak; both had witnessed something that was beyond words. The silence was only broken by the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs. Both boys tensed, but Harry recognized that the footsteps were too light to be his uncle's.

Aunt Petunia opened the door and scowled at both boys. Dully, Harry wondered if she was here to yell at him, but noticed that she was carrying a tray of food. She set it down on the desk hard enough to make the plate rattle.

"I don't know why you insist on provoking Vernon like that," said Aunt Petunia stiffly as she was setting the tray down.

"Are you kidding me?" Harry asked. He couldn't find it in himself right now to ignore her words, or to agree to them.

Aunt Petunia didn't say anything; perhaps the sight of Harry's marked face, or the crumpled, bloodstained paper towels, stopped her. She left the room, locking the door behind her.

Harry looked with disinterest at the food. Despite all the work he'd done today, his appetite was gone.

"You should try to eat something," Draco said softly. He was worried about Harry, especially the way he was looking now. His eyes were cold and flat, and the way he had spoken to his aunt was a bit scary. Malfoy had generally seen Harry control himself. Even if he got mad at his relatives (which he often did), Harry had basically kept himself together. Sure, he had been angry, and hurt, and depressed, but he hadn't lost himself. Some things were harder for him to deal with than others, but he was still the same  _Harry_  that Draco knew at school. The stupid Gryffindor. But right now, Draco wasn't sure what had happened to that boy.

"I'm not hungry," Harry said, not looking at Draco. "You eat it."

Harry pushed himself out of his chair suddenly, an unpleasant scraping sound ringing through the air. He walked to the window, keeping his back toward Draco. Draco watched him uneasily.

Harry looked out at the darkness of Little Whinging. The neighborhood was calm, the air completely still. Harry thought about his life here. His childhood had seemed to last for eternity when he was living it. He had had to fight for everything: to stay away from Dudley and his gang, and from his Uncle's blows, for scraps of food, to maintain his sense of self amid people trying to squash it out of him. He had done that all his life, and he tried to keep doing it, but sometimes things got too hard. Sometimes he wanted to give up. Not to have to fight for safety from his relatives or for food, or even not to let his experiences harden him. Sometimes it was hard to be Harry. He thought briefly of Snape, of all his sneering insults about his Gryffindor stupidity. Maybe Snape was right. If only he weren't so  _weak_. He let his relatives push him around, and after all these years, he still let it get to him. As much as he hated to admit it, it affected him. Why did he always have to  _feel_  everything? Harry dug his nails into his palms, trying to push these thoughts away. He willed himself to feel nothing. To be empty.

"Potter..." Draco began.

"Just shut up, alright?" Harry said, spinning around to face Malfoy. "Don't act like you suddenly care about me. You've always hated me just as much as they do."

Draco felt like Harry had slapped him, but he couldn't deny the truth in his words. Draco had always treated Harry terribly.

"I-" began Draco, unsure what he was going to say.

Harry cut him off. "Leave me alone." His tone was harsh, and Draco didn't dare to say anything back.

Draco watched, uneasy, as Harry turned around again, resolutely ignoring him. After a while, he lay down on the floor. Draco sat on the bed long after Harry had gone to bed, thoughts racing through his mind. His last thought, before he finally fell asleep, was that maybe Severus could help them.

0000

Draco woke up early the next morning after a night of very little sleep. He tried going back to bed, but it was no use. Rolling over on his side, he thought about last night's events once again. The knot in his stomach seemed to twist, and he ran his hands through his hair a few times. Glancing down, he saw Potter lying on his back, deep breaths reflected in the rise and fall of his chest.  _At least he's asleep_ , Draco thought. He was glad. Potter got far too little sleep, especially with the amount of work he had to do. Draco winced when he noticed the dark, ugly black eye marring Potter's pale skin.

Potter slept late that morning. Aunt Petunia didn't come to wake him up, and it was nearly eleven before he stirred. With a yawn, Harry sat up, looking around the room sleepily. His hair was sticking up in dozens of different directions and his glasses had slipped off somewhere. Feeling around on the floor for them, he picked them up and put them back on. Draco, who had been sitting at the desk, turned around to look at him. His face was lined with apprehension.

"Morning," said Harry.

"It's almost afternoon," said Malfoy. Harry thought it might've been a joke.

With a flush of embarrassment, Harry remembered last night's events. He wasn't sure if he was more embarrassed by the fact that Malfoy had seen everything, or for the way that he had treated him afterwards.

"Uh, listen," Harry began awkwardly. "I'm- sorry about last night." He muttered the last words quickly, looking down at his hands. They were clenching his sheets a little tighter than necessary.

"You had a right to be upset," said Draco evenly.

"Yeah," Harry said finally. "I guess I did."

Draco only nodded in response. It seemed like Potter was back to his old self.  _I never would've thought I'd be glad about that_ , Draco thought. He looked closer at Harry. His black eye was dark and ugly, but he did seem to look a bit better otherwise after a long night of sleep.

"We're locked in again, then?"

"Yeah," said Draco, although he tried to keep his voice free of any accusation or anger. He wasn't going to get mad at Harry this time.

Harry sighed in response. After a few minutes, he spoke. "I always hated when they locked me up. When I was younger, I mean."

Draco was surprised. It wasn't like Harry to talk about his life with the Dursleys. Mostly, he had just brushed away Draco's concern, normalizing everything.

"Did they do it often?"

Nodding, Harry said, "Yeah. They used to - " Harry broke off, looking at Malfoy suddenly. He realized who he was talking to.

"Nevermind," Harry muttered, face flushing with embarrassment again. What was he thinking? This was Malfoy he was talking to. At best, he probably didn't care, and at worst he'd tell all his Slytherin friends about Harry's pathetic life.

"They used to what?" Draco asked. He could sense Potter's reluctance. It was probably warranted, considering their past, but Draco found himself wanting to know more about Harry's life. He wasn't entirely sure why, but he felt like something had shifted. Looking at the bruised boy sitting on the ground before him, he felt an urge to protect him from the cruelty he was surrounded with. He also wanted to understand him. Which was an odd thought for Draco, who, for most of his life, had been completely absorbed with his own life and troubles. It wasn't like he had ever had a real friend before, someone he cared about for who they were, not what they could do for him. Although he didn't realize it, Draco was beginning to see Harry as something of a friend.

"You don't care," Harry said with a short laugh.

"I do."

Harry was caught off guard. It would've confirmed his thoughts if Malfoy had laughed at him, or offered up some jeering insult. This was new. It was like something Ron or Hermione would say; well, not that he talked to Ron or Hermione about the Dursleys, but still. Harry couldn't do anything but stare at Malfoy in disbelief.

"I'm not going to tell anyone, Potter," said Draco with a sigh, correctly guessing that it was something Harry was thinking. "It's not like I'd admit I've stayed with muggles, among other things." He idly flipped a page in his Potions book as he said this, not looking at Harry.

Harry thought that over. Normally, he would've dismissed Malfoy immediately. But he was in an odd mood today. Sometimes he got in these moods where he just wanted to talk about what was bothering him instead of bottling it all up like he usually did. Sometimes he talked to Hedwig, but he couldn't start talking to an owl with Draco in the room.

"It's just- they've always locked me away, you know" Harry muttered, looking at his hands. "It seemed worse to me than getting hit, sometimes." Harry lifted his head, gazing at Hedwig nestled in her cage. He could almost pretend he was just talking to her.

"I can see that," Draco said. He could understand where Harry was coming from. When he was younger, he only wanted to please his father, even when it seemed impossible. It often felt like Lucius would only love Draco if Draco did certain things or acted a certain way, and that had stung.

"Yeah?" Harry asked, glancing at Draco quickly and then glancing away.

"Yeah," said Draco. Then, after a few minutes, "It wasn't right of them, you know."

"I know," Harry said quietly.

The boys lapsed into a comfortable silence. Both had a lot to think about.

000

Severus was running late. He had made a trip to Diagon Alley to pick up some supplies, and to check at Flourish and Blotts to see if the Potions textbooks he had ordered were in stock yet. The damned shopkeeper was so disorganized; he had had to reorder nearly half of the books he had wanted. It had taken up his whole day, and he was in a foul mood when he returned to the castle that evening.

By the time he was back, a soft rain was pattering against the stone walls of the castle. He lit torches in the walls as he passed them, flicking up his wand impatiently. When he finally reached his quarters, he was ready for a hot cup of tea and a book before bed.

However, Severus was shocked to find the owl that was sitting right outside his door. Owls rarely went down to the dungeons. It was far too cold, and there were barely any surfaces for them to perch on. Besides, Hogwarts owls were trained to deliver their mail in the great hall. Unease snaked its way through Severus as he stared at the owl.

Seeing Snape, the owl immediately fluttered up to him, impatiently imploring him to take Draco's letter. Severus quickly untied the scroll and opened the letter, his eyes flashing across the page.

_S,_

_You're right. Things are bad here. P's relatives are awful; they've starved him, made him slave away all day, and even hit him. I'm worried about what's going to happen. I think things are getting worse._

_D_

Snape nearly crushed the letter in his fist, mind racing. Severus didn't know what to think about Draco's claims; he had always assumed that Potter's relatives treated him like royalty, catering to his every whim. But after what he had from McGonagall, he couldn't be sure about that. Draco was worried enough to tell him this, and that meant something. Even if he was exaggerating, or if Potter had made him write that, there was no way Severus could chance it. His godson's safety was his responsibility.

Mind made up, he retraced his path as quickly as possible. Once he was outside the wards of the castle, he turned on his heel and apparated with a pop. The bag containing his potions supplies was left outside his door. The owl settled down onto it for a moment before taking off for the owlery.

 

 


	11. Chapter 11

Harry and Draco passed the rest of the day quietly. A soft rain had started around midday, and the sound of rain pattering against the window was oddly comforting. The boys had picked at the food Aunt Petunia had brought up last night; although it was cold, both of them were pretty hungry.

Harry was standing near Hedwig's cage, patting her head through the bars. The repetition of nestling her feathers was calming. He thought about what he had told Malfoy earlier. It was strange, but he didn't really regret it. It was kind of nice to talk to someone like that, which was something he had never really been able to do. Ron and Hermione had tried to bring up the subject of the Dursleys before (well, Hermione more so than Ron), but Harry had deftly brushed aside their concerns and changed the topic. He had never even been able to talk about it with Sirius. A small, shooting pain coursed through him as he thought about this. Now it was too late.

Brushing away that thought, Harry wondered why he didn't feel bad about talking to Malfoy. True, he hadn't told him anything really bad; Harry thought he would never tell anyone those things. But, still, he had told him something he had never told anyone else. Harry didn't know why, but he thought Malfoy really meant it when he said he understood the way Harry felt.

Turning his head slightly, Harry looked at Malfoy. His head was bent over his Potions book, blond hair hanging down.

"You read that book a lot," Harry commented.

Draco looked up. Harry noticed how completely exhausted he looked, and felt slightly concerned.

Shrugging, Malfoy said, "Yeah."

"Is it for Snape? Because he's your godfather and everything?" Harry could almost say that word without wanting to throw up.

Malfoy paused. It looked like he was deciding how much to tell Harry. "Not exactly. More for my father." His cheeks flushed a bit after he said that, and he looked back down toward his book.

"Oh," said Harry, a bit stupidly, he realized. "Is he…" Harry trailed off, not really sure what he was asking.

"He's a bit serious about things like that. Bringing honor to the pureblood Malfoy name and all that," said Malfoy flatly.

Harry laughed without thinking. Malfoy looked at him questioningly.

"Do your Potions grades really affect the honor of the Malfoy family?" Harry asked with a smile.

Draco snorted. "I doubt it."

"Do you like Potions, though?" Harry asked.

"I do. It's quite interst-" began Malfoy, but stopped when he heard a loud banging sound coming from downstairs.

Harry turned toward the door quickly, straining to listen to the voices he heard. Glancing at his clock, he realized that it was around the time Uncle Vernon came home from work. The sky had darkened around them, and the room suddenly seemed a bit too gloomy. Harry flipped the light switch on.

"What-" began Malfoy, but Harry shook his head and held a finger up to his lips.

Draco watched as Harry pressed his ear against the locked bedroom door. Harry's face seemed to drain of color.

"What's going on?" Malfoy whispered.

"He's really angry," Harry muttered. He looked nervous.

 _He's always angry_ , Draco thought, before realizing that Harry actually seemed worried.

"Why?"

"I dunno...something at work, probably," Harry muttered. "The fact that I'm here doesn't help anything."

"You haven't even left the room all day," said Draco incredulously. Harry motioned for him to be quiet.

Draco watched Harry closely; the boy seemed more nervous than he had ever seemed before when facing his relatives. Draco had the uncomfortable suspicion that something like this must have happened before.

"He's going to come up here," Harry said quietly, his hands clenched.

"Can you hear what they're saying?" Draco asked quietly.

Harry shook his head. Then, quickly, added, "I need you to just stay out of the way." He seemed to be strengthening his resolve.

"Potter-" Malfoy began. The noises from downstairs got louder.

"That boy….attitude….neither of us have to deal with this," rumbled Uncle Vernon's voice. Harry could imagine Uncle Vernon's face rapidly changing color as he spoke, and the way he was throwing things around the kitchen.

"Tell me what's going on," Malfoy finished. "You haven't even seen him since last night."

Harry winced as a thud echoed from downstairs. He didn't answer Malfoy. He was thinking about all the times this had happened before. Uncle Vernon would have an exceptionally bad day and decide to take it out on Harry, often citing some imaginary problem Harry had caused. Harry bit his lip. He really wished Malfoy wasn't going to see this.

"Just do what I tell you," Harry said, paling when he heard another thud followed by the sound of his uncle's footsteps pounding up the stairs.

"Boy," Uncle Vernon snarled as he opened the door with a bang. Harry immediately stepped closer to his uncle, blocking his view of Draco as best he could.

"I hear you've been giving your aunt an attitude," he continued, stepping closer. "After everything we've done for you…"

Harry, on the verge of stepping back, lifted his chin up defiantly. His uncle hit him before he could even open his mouth to speak.

000

Severus Snape apparated outside of Arabella Figg's house. He briefly contemplated going in and asking her what she knew about the situation, but quickly brushed that thought aside. He had to check on Draco first.

Pulling his cloak closer around him to keep out some of the rain, Severus strode toward Number Four. A bad feeling had settled in his stomach, and he instinctively clenched his hand around the wand in his pocket.

The house looked completely normal from the outside; even in the stormy weather, Severus could tell that the yard was immaculate. He paused outside of Number Four, wondering how exactly he should proceed. He hadn't really planned out what he was going to do, and he cursed himself for that now. Usually, he planned meticulously for everything, and never rushed foolishly into things. Well, it was too late for planning now; he would just have to knock at the door and demand to see his godson. Drawing closer to the door, he knocked sharply.

000

Aunt Petunia was in the kitchen, wringing a dish towel between her hands. She wished Vernon wouldn't go off on the boy again so soon; it was true he was a burden to them, and that he gave them too much attitude when he should be thanking them for all that they did for them, and that it was unfair to Dudley to have to share his home with him, but still...she knew, from previous experience, that Vernon was probably going to be too hard on the boy.

Sometimes, Vernon let all of his frustrations build up, and when he let them out it wasn't a nice sight. With the recent stress he had been under at work, it was a wonder he hadn't cracked sooner. She supposed he had a bit last night, but when he came home today and told her about his problems with his supervisor...well, she sensed that there was going to be trouble. She was glad Dudley was at a friend's house.

A loud banging noise startled her, and she dropped the towel she was twisting. Shaken, she bent down and picked it up; the banging continued. She realized someone was knocking on the door. Why did they have to come now? Raised voices and a dull thudding noise drifted down the stairs. She certainly couldn't let someone in right now. Smoothing her hair, she decided she would just ignore whoever was at the door. However, the knocking continued steadily. She would just have to tell them to leave then, and shut the door in their face. Well, it was their own fault for disturbing her family at this hour.

She set her towel down on the counter. Glancing around her spotless kitchen, she thought it was a shame that Potter was bothering Vernon right now; the lovely dinner she had prepared would get cold. Petunia made her way to the door, already looking forward to slamming it shut.

"What do you want?" She snapped, opening the door a few inches. When she saw the man standing there, she nearly screamed.

000

Draco sat frozen in his chair. He had just watched Potter's uncle hit his own nephew hard enough to knock him sideways. Harry, who had been pushed into his bed, straightened up and took a few steps forward.

"That make you feel better?" Harry asked defiantly; although he was dizzy and bruised, his eyes flashed with anger.

Draco couldn't believe Potter was being so stupid. It would've been much smarter to keep his mouth shut. Vernon was already clearly enraged, although Draco had no idea why, and had decided to take it out on Harry. Why was he egging him on?

"You-" Uncle Vernon began, but he could only sputter over the rest of his words. He advanced on Harry, pushing him into the wall. He gripped his arms and shook him roughly.

Harry grit his teeth, forcing himself not to cry out. He wouldn't give his uncle that satisfaction. But he hoped Uncle Vernon would lose steam soon; he didn't know how much longer he could keep him from going at Malfoy. As he was thinking about this, his head knocked against the wall. He felt dizzy.

"Leave him alone!" Draco said, rising from his chair. Nervous as he felt, he couldn't let the man continue to hurt Potter and not do anything about it.

Vernon turned toward Draco, momentarily stunned; he had nearly forgotten the boy was in the room.

"Who do you think you are?" he asked incredulously, ignoring Harry for the moment. "This is my house, boy."

"You have no right to touch him," Draco said. He forgot, for the moment, that he couldn't use magic; he was channeling his best Malfoy coldness, looking at Vernon as if were a piece of dirt. Harry, meanwhile, was leaning against the wall, eyes closed. Vernon still had one arm gripping him.

"Draco...stop," Harry muttered. His words were quiet, and a low hiss of pain escaped his teeth.

"Quiet," Uncle Vernon snapped, turning around to give Harry another shake. His head hit the wall again.

"Stop it," Malfoy said, voice strong. He took a step forward.

"Are you threatening me?"

"Maybe I am."

Uncle Vernon was momentarily stunned. He soon got over it, however, and released his grip on Harry. Before Malfoy knew what had happened, Uncle Vernon was gripping the front of his shirt.

"Let go of me, muggle," Draco said, struggling to free himself. Uncle Vernon gave him a shake.

"I won't have you speaking to me like that in my house," he said, punctuating his words with more shaking. "You're lucky I even took in another freak."

Malfoy desperately wished he had his wand; statute of secrecy or not, he would've jinxed Uncle Vernon before the brute had time to blink.

Harry, meanwhile, was leaning against the wall, struggling to regain himself. His uncle's blows had affected him worse than usual; maybe the strain of little food and long hours of work was catching up to him. He shook his head slightly, trying to clear his mind.

"Stop," he said, trying to force some energy into his voice.

000

"I'm here to check on Draco," said Snape shortly. Aunt Petunia just stared at him in horror, and, after not being let in for a few minutes, he strode inside himself.

Snape looked around the muggle home. It was neat and dull.

"Where is he?"

"You- you have no right to be here!" Aunt Petunia said, voice high pitched.

A banging noise, followed by the sound of raised voices, drifted downstairs.

Severus wasted no time; he ascended the stairs quickly, leaving Aunt Petunia behind, gaping at him.

"Vernon!" she called, rushing over to the stairs.

Severus's apprehension grew as he made his way toward the room the noises were coming from. He pushed the door open.

000

Harry looked up when he heard the door banging against the wall. His first thought, when he saw the man standing there, was that he had passed out and was hallucinating.

Uncle Vernon turned around, still struggling with Draco. Snape stood framed in the doorway for a moment, his black robes billowing around him. Vernon could do nothing but stare. Draco was equally amazed.

"Severus!" Draco cried out, managing to wrench himself free from Uncle Vernon's loosened grip. Severus reached out as Draco came toward him; he pulled him around behind him.

"Are you alright?" he asked urgently, dark eyes scanning Draco up and down.

Draco nodded. "I'm fine. I'm worried about Potter," he said, nodding toward the boy.

Severus didn't take his eyes off Draco immediately; he was busy making sure he was really okay. Besides looking shaken and flushed, he seemed to be in no immediate danger. Severus finally looked across the room at Potter.

Uncle Vernon was blocking some of the boy from view; he had retaken his aggressive stance. He had gotten over his surprise and was staring at Snape with pure rage, a vein steadily pulsing in his forehead.

"What are you doing in my house?" Uncle Vernon thundered, raising one of his fists.

Snape surveyed him coolly. Turning to Draco, he said, "Gather your things."

"Excuse me?" Uncle Vernon said, advancing.

Snape stepped forward in two quick strides; his wand was pressed at Vernon's throat before the man even had time to blink.

"Get out," he said, words eerily calm. "I will be collecting these boys' things and taking them with me. If you lay a hand on him again, I'll hex you."

Uncle Vernon's eyes widened in shock, but he didn't say anything.

"Out," snapped Snape, pointing his wand toward the door. Uncle Vernon left, throwing a glare over his shoulder as he did so.

Snape walked over to Potter while Draco was hastily shoving his belongings into his trunk, throwing looks at Harry every few seconds as he did so. Potter seemed on the verge of unconsciousness; in addition to a nasty black eye, he had another large red mark on his face, and finger marks around his arms and throat. Taking one of Potter's arms, he walked him over to Draco and deposited him in the desk chair.

"Do you have everything?" Snape asked, quickly taking in everything he could about the room they were in; it was small and cramped, with only one bed and a cat flap installed in the door.

Draco nodded. "I don't know where the rest of Harry's stuff is, though. They locked it up somewhere."

"Stay here," Snape said curtly, striding out of the door. Draco turned toward Harry.

"Potter?" He asked quietly. Harry mumbled something in response.

"It'll be okay," Draco said quietly, fetching the cage with Hedwig in it. "Severus will take care of everything."

"Snape…" Harry muttered. At that moment, Snape reappeared.

"I've put Potter's belongings outside. We need to get out of here. We'll apparate once we get past the wards." Draco nodded in response. Severus grabbed his trunk. Draco slung one of Harry's arms around his shoulders, handing Hedwig to Snape. Snape led the way out. They passed through the house, which was completely silent; the Dursleys were nowhere to be seen.

The rain had lightened up, although a faint drizzle still fell upon them. Severus had left Harry's trunk beneath a lamppost a few feet away, which he had designated as their apparition point.

"Hold my arm, and keep a hold of Potter and his trunk," Severus said, surveying the surrounding area to make sure no one was watching them. Draco nodded, shifting his grip on Harry so that he was holding his arm. A few seconds later, they apparated with a faint pop.


	12. Chapter 12

The three of them apparated outside Snape's countryside house. Severus had had to decide quickly where he was going to take them, and this had been his choice; the house was completely isolated, whereas there was always the chance of people coming and going at Hogwarts. He couldn't risk word of this getting out; the Dark Lord could have no idea that Draco was with Potter, that Potter was out of his home, or that the boys were with Severus. His house here was the safest option; Voldemort didn't know it existed, as far as Snape knew.

The house was shrouded by a grove of tall trees, and the darkness was thick and total. Severus sighed, turning slightly toward Draco.

"In," he said. "Take Potter to my room." Draco had been here a handful of times before; he nodded quickly and began shepherding Potter inside. Snape watched them go, Potter leaning heavily on Draco. He seemed barely able to walk.

Severus frowned as he followed them inside, walking immediately toward his small potions cabinet. What he had seen at Potter's house was...troubling, to say the least. He wasn't quite sure what he believed, even though he had seen the belligerence of the boy's uncle. He hated Potter. It wasn't easy to wrap his mind around the thought that the boy's living situation was very different from how he had thought it was. He cursed himself for that as he rummaged through his supplies; although this was nothing compared to what he had at Hogwarts, he should be able to fix the boy's injuries. He was grateful that Draco seemed, for the most part, unscathed. He would never be able to forgive himself if his godson had gotten hurt because he, Snape, had allowed him into a dangerous situation without properly assessing it first. Finding the potions he wanted, Severus closed the cabinet door and made his way toward his bedroom, mind still churning unpleasantly. Dumbledore had assured him the house was secure; how could the man have been ignorant about what was happening?

Well, he would have to think about it later; the boy needed his medical attention. Although he still loathed him, he couldn't let Potter remain hurt. Too many lives hung on the brat's survival.

Severus entered his room, setting down his potions and rolling up his sleeves. Draco stood over Potter, who was lying down, face ghostly pale. A thin sheen of sweat lined his face.

"Will he be okay?" Draco asked. Severus could tell the boy was nervous. He found it odd, considering that the two were enemies; he catalogued the thought to consider later.

"He will be fine," Snape answered. "You should go to bed."

Draco shook his head. "I want to stay."

Severus sighed. "Fine, but once he is stabilized you will go to bed. He's in no immediate danger." Draco nodded in response, nervously twisting his fingers together.

Severus raised his wand, running a quick diagnostic spell. He needed to know what exactly he was working with. A piece of paper shot out of his wand; Severus was surprised at how long it was. A quick scan of Potter's present condition revealed that he was malnourished, exhausted, bruised, and had a mild concussion. It wasn't pleasant, but Snape could handle it. He grabbed a few of his potions, which would help with the malnourishment and exhaustion. He would need to use a spell to help with the concussion.

"Well?" asked Draco. Severus had nearly forgotten he was here.

Severus grabbed one of his potions, lifting Potter's head and pushing the bottle against his open mouth. "I'm going to give him a few potions and use a spell on him; with some rest, he should recover fully."

Draco nodded. "Thanks for getting us," he said quietly.

After Severus had finished with Potter, he turned toward his godson. "You are unhurt?" he asked. Draco nodded.

"I'm going to have to talk to you about what happened. But get some rest first. Go take the guest bedroom," Snape said.

"Where will you sleep?" asked Draco.

"I'm going to stay up to monitor Potter."

Draco nodded again; he couldn't find the energy to speak. His exhaustion seemed to hit him all at once; suddenly, it was difficult even to keep his eyes open.

"Thanks," he said with a yawn. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Draco."

Once Draco had left, Severus turned his attention back toward Potter. Although he was still too pale, he was asleep and his breathing was normal. Severus pulled out his chair from his desk, picking up the results of Potter's scan. He frowned.

Potter's list of injuries was far too long. Of course, the boy was accident prone and got himself into dangerous situations due to his disregard for the rules, but there was more here than even that.  _Broken bones, years of malnutrition, bruises, head injuries…._

Severus set the list down, feeling slightly ill. There must be some explanation for this. Watching Potter's still form, he tried to reassure himself of that, but the marks on the boy's face told another story.

000

Draco woke up late the next day, sunshine pleasantly filling his room. It took him a minute to remember where he was, and why he was so comfortable. When he remembered last night's events, he sat up quickly and scrambled out of bed. He didn't bother changing out of his pajamas as he rushed to the kitchen, eager to talk with Severus.

When he got to the small kitchen, Severus wasn't there. Glancing at the clock on the wall, Draco realized how late he had slept; it was after one o'clock. Sunlight filtered through the curtains over the kitchen windows, filling the room with a warm light. At that moment, Draco felt an overwhelming relief that he hadn't woken up at Number Four, Privet Drive.

Severus walked in a few minutes later.

"Good morning, Draco."

"Morning, Severus," said Draco.

"Sit," said Severus. "I will get you some breakfast."

"Thanks," said Draco, smiling. Snape waved his wand in a quick, short, movement, and a plate set itself in front of Draco. Severus then busied himself with cooking some eggs; although he could have done it by magic, he thought this would give Draco some time to gather his thoughts. Besides, he didn't mind cooking.

When he had finished with the eggs, he set them in front of Draco, along with some buttered toast. Draco dug in enthusiastically, still feeling the effects of his hunger at the Dursleys'. Severus watched him eat, fighting the urge to chide the boy for his table manners. After Draco had wolfed down most of the food, Severus spoke.

"How are you feeling?"

"Good," said Draco, taking a big gulp of orange juice. "Much better."

"You finished your meal very quickly. I assume the food there was subpar?"

Draco snorted. "They barely fed us. Potter less than me."

Severus took that in. "What does barely feeding you entail?"

"Well, they gave me normal food at first. But then…" he trailed off, lost in his memory. "Potter got in trouble with them, so they locked us in his room for a few days. His aunt only brought us some scraps."

Potter got in trouble with them. Well, he had probably done something wrong; he did have a total disrespect for the rules…

"What did Potter do to prompt this?"

"Nothing," said Draco quietly. "They got mad about that letter I wrote you, asking about the bed. Potter said he wrote it."

"Why would they get angry about that?"

"They hate him, Severus. I didn't believe it at first. I thought...I thought maybe he was in trouble for something. But they treat him terribly all the time."

"Why would Potter say he wrote the letter?"

Draco shrugged. "He was decent...he tried to keep me away from his relatives," he muttered.

Snape couldn't believe it; Potter had protected Draco? It made no sense.

"So they received the letter, and locked you two up."

Draco nodded. "They hit him, too," he said quietly.

"They hit him," Snape said flatly. "Was this an isolated incident?"

"No."

"How many times?"

"A couple," Draco said quietly. "His cousin told me it had been going on for a while."

Severus looked closely at Draco. The boy seemed upset, the energy he had displayed while eating completely deflated. Once again, he cursed himself; he had left his godson in this situation.

"They didn't harm you, did they? Besides the food?"

"No. Like I said, Potter dealt with the most of it."

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" said Snape, trying to keep the anger out of his voice.

"Potter made me promise not to. I wanted to, Severus."

Severus scowled. Typical Gryffindor behavior, trying to deal with everything on his own.

"Why would he do that?"

"He thought it didn't matter. That he could handle it. And...he mentioned that it was the safest place for him. He didn't want to put anyone in danger."

Severus sighed. Of course, Dumbledore had assured him of the same thing; that the wards at Privet Drive were the strongest out there. None of them had considered the danger that was within the house.

"All right," said Severus, deciding that he had enough information at the moment. "You should rest today."

Draco nodded. "How's Potter?"

"I checked on him earlier; he is healing. He will probably be asleep for a while. Maybe a few days."

"Are you going to tell anyone about this?" Draco asked. "Dumbledore or anyone?"

Severus considered the question. He had thought about it a lot last night. He would certainly have to speak to Dumbledore, but he didn't know if there was anyone else he should talk to.

"I have not decided," he answered Draco, deciding to keep his thoughts to himself. "Don't worry about that right now."

Draco nodded, rising from the table. He said a quick goodbye to Severus before going to his room.

Severus sat at the kitchen table, staring at his hands. Talking to Draco had made him feel terrible; a sick sensation burned in his stomach and throat. Unbidden, the memory of Lily rose to his mind. The girl in his memory was young, looking at him through a curtain of thick red hair. They sat beneath a tree at the park, a warm summer breeze ruffling the leaves.

" _Sev," said Lily, green eyes wet with concern. The two were back from their second year at Hogwarts. The little muggle town seemed dull to Severus after the sparkling magic of the castle. That wasn't the worse part of going back, though. Although they had only been back a week, Severus had already clashed with his father._

_Things had been tense ever since he came back. Tobias still hated the fact that his son was at Hogwarts. As soon as Severus had come home (Only his mother had picked him up at the station) his father had forbidden him from using magic, telling him the consequences would be unpleasant if he did. Severus, seething on the inside, had only nodded before hiding himself away. He had managed to avoid any confrontations before now by mostly keeping out of the house, but he knew something was going to happen sooner or later. And it had. His face swelled with a large black eye, which Lily was gazing at tearfully._

" _It's okay, Lily," said Severus, pasting a smile onto his face._

" _It's not," she said, looking as if she might cry._

_Severus tried to brighten himself up for her. "It is, okay? I promise."_

" _But-" Lily began. Severus cut her off._

" _We'll be back at Hogwarts before we know it. Let's play a game or something," he said, dashing off for the park swings before Lily could reply. After a few moments she ran after him, wind whipping her hair back._

The memory faded away. Severus sat at the table for a while, staring off into space. He should have known better than this. He had known Petunia as a child, and she been extremely unpleasant. How could he have let this happen? He didn't want to think about what Lily would say if she could see this. Sighing, Severus finally rose from the table and went to check on Potter. He tried not to think about the similarities between himself and the boy sleeping in the next room.

 


	13. Chapter 13

Harry came to consciousness slowly, his mind sifting through a series of dream like images before breaking the surface. Blinking, his surroundings swam into focus. He blinked a few more times, trying to rid the image of its blurriness, before realizing that he wasn't wearing his glasses. He sat up slowly, feeling around clumsily on the nightstand next to the bed. He slipped his glasses on his face and looked around the room.

The unpleasant realization that he had no idea where he was hit Harry. He didn't panic though; he figured that if he had been captured by Voldemort or a death eater, he wouldn't be in such a large room or sleeping in a comfortable bed. And the bed really was comfortable, especially considering the fact that he had been sleeping on the floor at the Dursleys. The Dursleys-why wasn't he there? Harry wracked his brain, trying to remember what had happened. His uncle had been mad, they had been fighting, Draco had tried to intervene...what had happened after that? He must have blacked out.

Well, if he was somewhere else, someone must have come and come and taken them away from the Dursleys. Who? Harry wished he were better at remembering things...there was that person he had seen standing in the doorway, but that must have been some kind of hallucination after he passed out; there was no way  _that_  was possible.

Harry blinked a few more times, trying to rid his eyes of the residue of sleep. He still felt tired, and he could have easily laid back down and fallen asleep again, but he wanted to figure out where he was first. The room wasn't giving him any clues. It was nice, but plain. The floors were wooden, the windows framed with dark blue curtains. There wasn't that much space, and what little space there was occupied by bookshelves; those couldn't even hold all the books, which spilled over in little piles all around the floor. He leaned over stiffly, grabbing one that was on the floor near the bed.  _Medieval Potions._ Harry dropped the book, which hit the floor with a heavy thud.  _No._ There was no way his hallucination about who had gotten them was true. No.

Someone had apparently heard the thud, because Harry heard someone's footsteps creaking their way down the hall. His body coiled with tension.

Draco opened the door, stepping awkwardly into the room.

"You're awake," he said, surprised. "Severus said you wouldn't be awake for a few days."

Harry just stared at him mutely.  _Severus said_ …

"What happened?" Harry finally managed to croak out. His voice was hoarse.

"You don't remember?" said Draco, even more surprised.

"I remember...a bit," said Harry quietly.

Draco looked...nervous, which was a surprise. The Slytherin was usually so good at keeping his cool. Which told Harry that something was really wrong here.

"Well," Draco began uncertainly, "Severus came and got us."

The words hung in the air.

"Severus came and got us," Harry repeated hollowly.

"Listen, Potter-" Draco began. Harry cut him off.

"I thought," he said slowly, "You promised you weren't going to say anything." His voice was calm now, but he couldn't contain the slight shake of anger that filled his words.

"I know," Draco said.

"And you told him anyway," Harry said, unable to keep his voice even now. "I should've known not to trust you! Do you realize what you've done?" He was practically shouting now, hands angrily clenching the sheets.

"Be quiet, Potter," Draco snarled, his placating tone now gone. "'You know as well as I do that we had to get out of there. They could've-"

"They could've what? They're nothing I can't handle! And just because it wasn't the mansion you were used to-"

"They're nothing you can't handle?" Draco spat out, incredulous. "Even you're not thick enough to believe that, Potter. Look at yourself. Look at what a great job you did of  _handling_  them." The words were harsher than Draco had intended, but he couldn't stop himself. How dare Potter talk to him like that?

Harry couldn't speak for a few moments; he pushed himself up for the bed, ignoring the stiffness and dizziness he felt. His hands had grabbed the collar of Malfoy's shirt before he even realized it.

"Let go of him, Potter," a familiar voice drawled. Harry dropped his hands, turning slowly to look at the man standing in the doorway. Snape was standing with his arms folded, his black eyes trained steadily on Harry. The familiar glint of hatred lit up his eyes.

Snape strode into the room.

"There will be no more yelling, Potter. This is my house, and you will be respectful of that."

Harry just glared at him.

"Is that understood, Potter?"

Harry nodded stiffly.

"A verbal response," Snape said with a humorless grin. "I know eloquence has never been your strong point, but I trust that you can still string a few words together."

Harry grit his teeth. "Yes, sir," he spat out.

"As I said before, this is my house and you will follow my rules. Dinner is served promptly at six, breakfast at eight thirty. If you are late, you will not eat. There will be no excessive loudness. You will treat both Mr. Malfoy and myself with respect, and you will do whatever I tell you to do. If you fail to follow my rules, you will not be pleased with the consequences."

Harry glared at Snape, trying to keep his temper under control. What was the point of leaving the Dursleys if he was just going to end up in an even worse situation? Right now, he almost wished he were back facing his uncle. At least he knew what to expect there. But living with Snape? This was something he wasn't sure he could handle.

"You will remain in this room for the rest of the evening, resting. You are nowhere near recovered," Snape said finally, turning and walking out of the room with a characteristic sweep of his robes. He paused at the doorway.

"And, Potter, you should be extremely grateful that Draco had enough sense to alert me to your circumstances," he said finally, voice silky, before exiting the room. Harry stared blankly after him before slouching back down onto the bed.

Draco stood there uncertainly for a few minutes before he left without saying another word. Harry watched him go glumly.

000

Dinner was a quiet affair. Draco picked at his pasta. Severus ate his steadily, watching Draco. The boy looked sullen; he wondered if he were really upset about his fight with Potter. Severus had heard the whole exchange, their loud words ringing down the stairs.

"Can I be excused?" Draco finally asked. Severus contemplated making him stay and finish his meal, but he nodded and let the boy leave. The kitchen was still around him.

He supposed he should go and bring some food up to Potter, in case he woke up; he had a pass for skipping dinner today, since he was still ill, but this would be the only exception. He scooped some pasta onto a plate and went upstairs, pausing before the door to his room. He pushed the door open, stepping into the dimness.

Potter was asleep, but it looked like he had been thrashing about; the sheets and blankets were crumpled and twisted around him. Why did Potter always have to make such a mess of everything? He set the plate down on the desk, surveying the room one more time before closing the door with a soft click. As he did so, Harry turned in his sleep, a low moan escaping his lips.

 


	14. Chapter 14

Severus paused at the door. What was that sound? He heard it again and realized it was coming from Potter's room. Reluctantly, he pushed the door back open and stood in the door frame, eyes adjusting to the darkness again. The sound came again, a cross between a moan and a whimper. Clearly something was wrong with Potter. Severus scowled. He wished he could just leave the boy, but he knew he needed to make sure he was okay, especially considering his recent injuries. When he had seen Potter earlier that day, he had been certain that he was fine; although he had woken up earlier than expected, and was naturally a bit shaky, he hadn't displayed any alarming signs that would indicate something was wrong; Severus would have been able to spot them within a few seconds.

But Potter had been fine, and he had quickly snapped back into his irritating self. Severus had meant to remain neutral and calm with the boy, but after hearing the way he talked to Draco that plan had flown out the window. Snape had chided himself for that afterwards. If the boy was going to stay here, even for a few days, things needed to run smoothly. It also seemed like Potter had won some sort of grudging respect from Draco; although this didn't make much sense to Severus, he needed to take it into account.

It clearly wasn't easy to remain neutral with Potter. Years and years of mutual dislike barred the way, clouding Snape's usually logical mind. Rationally, he knew that Potter was just a teenage boy, and that teenage boys were difficult to handle, and that he himself was the adult. He also knew that Potter had suffered several different traumas. His recent discovery of the Dursleys' treatment added a whole new layer to that. And that should be a layer Severus understood; he had grown up in an abusive household himself, and he was still dealing with the effects of it; he knew how deeply the pain went.

Yes, he knew all these things rationally. He was normally so good at being rational; his work as a Potions master depended upon precision and understanding. His work as a spy depended upon these things even more so; keeping his emotions under control and thinking logically were a matter of life and death. So why was it so difficult for him to do these things when it came to Harry Potter?

Well, he knew why, even if he didn't like to think of it. As much as Severus liked to think that he kept his emotions under the steady control of logic, they were still there. Beneath his calculating mind, his emotions sat, deep and painful. They often reared up when he least expected it, the pain almost unbearable. When his emotions reared up, it was as if he temporarily lost control of himself. Severus had experienced this time and time again throughout the years, and whenever it happened he despised his feelings more and more.

No one seemed to ignite his emotions more than Potter did.

Lost in these musings, Severus almost didn't hear the next soft noise coming from Harry's room. He did hear it, though, and he walked closer to Potter's bed. He seemed to be trapped in some nightmare; Severus could almost feel the tension emanating from the boy. Severus watched him toss and turn. This was Lily's boy, he thought, somewhat guiltily. Lily's boy was so troubled that he couldn't sleep normally. What would Lily think if-

Potter let out a loud noise; it was almost a scream. Severus jumped. That was it, he had to wake the boy up. He braced himself before leaning down to shake the boy.

Harry woke up abruptly, eyes snapping open. He stared at Severus blankly for a few seconds, panic blotting out any recognition of the man before him. Then, slowly, he realized where he was.

"What-" Harry began, but he couldn't get any more words out. His hands shook as he brought them up toward his face and began rubbing his eyes.

"You were making noises," Severus said, somewhat awkwardly. The statement didn't hold any of his normal malice.

"Oh," said Harry quietly, still rubbing his eyes.

Severus didn't know what to do. He stood there for a few more minutes, watching as Potter collected himself. He looked quite shaken.

"Would you like some dreamless sleep potion?" he asked finally.

"What?" asked Harry, surprised.

"Dreamless sleep potion, Potter," Severus said. "Your dreams are clearly troubling you."

"Uhm, okay," said Harry. Severus nodded.

"I will be back shortly," he said.

Severus strode downstairs. He opened his potions cabinet, nudging vials and bottles around as he looked for the dreamless sleep potion. He used the motions to distract himself from his thoughts. Once he found it, he lingered for a few minutes before going back upstairs, swirling the potion around a few times.

Harry was sitting up in bed, looking a bit calmer than he had before. His hands weren't shaking anymore, but they did clench the sheets rather tightly.

"Here," said Severus, handing the vial to Potter. "Just two or three swallows will do."

Harry nodded, uncorking the vial and taking a few tentative sips. He made a face, but handed the potion back to Severus with a quiet thanks.

Severus nodded. "It should only take a few minutes for you to fall back asleep."

As he spoke, Harry had already started to relax. His head hit the pillow gently as he dropped back down from his sitting position. Severus stood there for a few more minutes, making sure his breathing was even and normal. He looked much more peaceful now. Without his glasses on, his relation to Lily was much more pronounced.

Severus shook that last thought away as he left the room, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

000

Severus got up in the middle of the night He hadn't been able to sleep much, anyway. The new day dawned slowly around him as he sat in the kitchen, a glass of firewhiskey next to him. He sipped it as the kitchen lit up around him, lost in thought.

Last night's events revealed that Potter was far from okay; the boy needed some type of help, that was clear. But Severus knew this wasn't the right place for him to get it. Severus realized the wall that spanned between him and Potter, and he also realized that it was probably too late to breach it. No, it would be better for someone else to take the boy in now. Maybe Lupin, or some other Order member.

Severus decided he would go visit the headmaster today. Albus should be back from his Order work by now, and he had a lot to discuss with him. Although he didn't care for Potter, how could Albus have left him in that awful house? It was a big mistake to make. That was, if it even was a mistake. Severus regarded that thought uneasily; what was the probability that the headmaster knew what Potter's relatives were like, and left him there anyway? Even if that weren't true, the fact that Albus had left Potter there without properly checking on him was...disturbing, to say the least.

When the kitchen was lighted well enough, Severus started making breakfast; he treated cooking the same way he treated potion making. He chopped, measured, and stirred everything precisely, giving over his total concentration to the task. The work distracted him from his thoughts a bit.

Draco eventually wandered in, still in his pajamas. He looked like he hadn't slept well, either. Severus served him up some breakfast and poured himself some coffee before sitting back down.

"Trouble sleeping?" Severus asked, surveying his godson.

Draco just shrugged and picked up his fork. Severus decided not to push it right now.

"I will be visiting the headmaster today," Severus said.

Draco looked up. "What are you going to say to him?"

"That will be between the headmaster and me. However, you can be assured that I will be expressing my displeasure to him about the situation he left you in."

Draco nodded. "Could he...could he make us go someplace else?" he asked finally.

Severus didn't say anything at first. He noted the use of us. "I don't know about Potter, but I will make sure you stay with me."

"He wouldn't make Potter go back, would he?"

"Under no circumstances."

"Good," Draco said finally. They ate the rest of their meal in silence. Severus was glad to see that Draco finished everything this time.

"I will be going soon. I gave Potter some dreamless sleep potion last night, so he'll probably sleep late. Leave some breakfast out for him," Severus said, standing up.

"Alright. How long do you think you'll be gone?" Draco asked, also standing up.

"I shouldn't be gone for more than a few hours," Severus said, heading toward the front door. He walked outside, past the wards, and apparated with a sharp pop.

000

When Harry woke up, he was surprised to find himself well rested. The bed felt pleasant and cool around him, instead of the usual sweaty mess he was used to waking up to. He sat up, put his glasses on, and stretched. The curtains blocked out most of the light, so he got up and opened them a bit. A pleasant summer sunshine filtered through the room. He noticed a plate of pasta sitting on the desk, but it was probably from last night.

Glancing at the clock on the wall, Harry realized that he had definitely missed breakfast; it was past ten. Oh well, he thought, sitting back down on the bed. He turned his thoughts toward last night's events.

Snape had been a git to him earlier. That was expected; of course he would take the chance to bully Harry and let him know that he was in charge. What wasn't so expected was the whole dreamless sleep thing. That had been decent of him, Harry had to admit. Although the fact that Snape knew about his nightmares was troubling. He would probably just use it against him somehow.

Well, he would worry about that later. Harry got up again and dressed, then went downstairs. He wasn't confined to his room, was he? He felt rested enough, and Snape hadn't said he needed to stay there all day, anyway.

Entering the kitchen, Harry was surprised to see that food was still out. He grabbed a plate, sat down, and started eating. After that night of rest, his appetite was fully present, and he dug in.

While he was eating, Draco came into the kitchen.

"I thought I heard someone moving around," he said.

"Well, you did," Harry answered.

"Right," Draco said. Silence stretched between them.

"Where's Snape? I thought he said I would miss breakfast if I was late."

"He mentioned some potion he gave you...said you would probably sleep late," Draco answered. "And he's visiting Dumbledore."

"Oh," said Harry, suddenly feeling a lot less hungry. He set his fork down. He hadn't had time to think about Dumbledore throughout all of this. Now the man would definitely know about the Dursleys. That was, if he didn't know already. Harry didn't really like either possibility.

Draco sat down at the table.

"Severus said you definitely wouldn't be going back there," Draco said quietly. He glanced at Harry, trying to determine how mad he still was.

"That's..that's good I guess," Harry answered, staring off into space. The boys sat quietly at the table for a while, Harry occasionally picking at his food.

 


	15. Chapter 15

Severus apparated to Hogsmeade, striding up the steep path toward Hogwarts. He lost track of time as he walked, running through what he was going to say to Dumbledore in his mind. He nearly walked straight into the Hogwarts gate. He shook his head.  _Get it together_ , he thought to himself. He would need to be in control of his thoughts when he talked with Dumbledore; to be direct, to show the headmaster that he wouldn't be able to wriggle his way out of answering the hard questions.

Severus performed the spell that allowed Hogwarts professors access to the castle, a complicated little series of wand gestures that changed quite often; it was just one of the many protections in place to guard the castle, but it allowed professors quick access when they had to visit Hogsmeade. Slipping his wand back down his sleeve, Severus walked up to the castle. The path seemed much shorter than usual.

Every step he took brought Severus closer to the conversation he was dreading. Would Albus's complete incompetence in handling Potter's upbringing be worse than if he had left him there knowingly? He didn't know which was worse, and he didn't know what he wanted to hear.

Finally reaching the castle, Severus stood on the stone steps, stock still. He stared at the heavy oak door before him. He emptied himself of emotion; that was the best way to approach this. As an accomplished Occlumens, that was the best way to approach everything.

Severus pushed the door open and stepped into the entrance hall; the early afternoon light slanted through the windows in thick, dusty beams. The castle was still and quiet. Severus steeled himself one last time before he started off toward the Headmaster's office, strides long and purposeful.

He soon arrived outside the large stone gargoyles that guarded Dumbledore's office. He ground out the candy‐coated password and the gargoyles sprang aside, revealing the spiral stone staircase that led the way upstairs. Once Severus stepped onto the steps, they started moving automatically and swept him up to the office. He lifted the heavy bronze knocker on the door and brought it down a few times.

Dumbledore didn't answer; that was odd. Severus was positive that he was supposed to be back from his Order business by now. He tried knocking a few more times. Where could the man be? Perhaps things had taken longer than expected. These kinds of things often did, though Severus wasn't sure what exactly Dumbledore had been up to. He hadn't shared it with it him.

Severus was about to go back down the stairs when he heard something. It was faint, almost a whisper. Severus pushed the door open, suddenly seized by the feeling that something was very, very wrong.

Albus Dumbledore sat slumped over at his desk, glasses askew and eyes half closed. Severus crossed the room in a few strides, gently grabbing the Headmaster's shoulders and lifting him up slightly.

"Albus!" Severus said, scanning the man up and down, trying to ascertain what was wrong with him.

Dumbledore cracked his eyelids open slightly.

"Severus," he whispered.

"What's wrong?" Severus asked sharply. His eyes zeroed in on a small patch of red on the shoulder of Dumbledore's robes.

"I'll be fine," Dumbledore wheezed. "Remus...the werewolves…."

Severus' heart nearly stopped. "You weren't bitten by a werewolf, were you?"

"No...no…that's from...a spell."

"You need a restoration potion," Severus said. "There should be some in the hospital wing." Raising his wand, Severus uttered an  _Accio_. He paced up and down waiting for it, keeping an eye on the headmaster as he did so.

When the potion came, Severus grabbed it and brought it to Dumbledore. He propped the man up and brought the bottle up to his lips.

Within a few moments, Dumbledore began to regain his energy. He gripped the edge of his desk, hands shaking slightly.

"Tell me everything," Severus said immediately.

"I was with Remus on Order business….infiltrating werewolf circles," Dumbledore said slowly. "He's still there….you need to help him."

Severus straightened up abruptly. "When did you leave him?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "I don't know...he gave me the portkey..."

Clearly, Dumbledore was not at his full strength; that basic restoration potion hadn't been nearly enough. But it looked like he couldn't deal with that now, or with the cut on his shoulder, as Dumbledore was ordering him into a nest of werewolves. Damn him!

"Tell me the exact location, Albus," Severus urged Dumbledore. He would have to do what he had to do; he just hoped that Greyback wasn't among the werewolves he would be visiting…it would be dangerous if anyone that knew Voldemort from his inner circle were there…

Dumbledore pulled a crumpled piece of paper out of his robes, which had a smudged address and coordinates written on it. Severus quickly memorized it. How would he get there? A portkey would be easiest, but risky. Oh well; it would have to do. But first, he should get some backup here. He raised his wand, and with a slashing movement sent off his silvery patronus. He did this a few more times, sending one to McGonagall, Flitwick, Sprout, and Pomfrey. He didn't know where each of them was right now, but he hoped that at least a few of them would be able to make it here and help the Headmaster. After the patronuses had been sent off, Severus cast his eyes around, searching for an object that would make a good portkey. He settled on one of Dumbledore's teacups and cast the spell; the teacup burned a brilliant blue in his hands, and soon he was pulled off into spiraling darkness.

000

Draco was worried. Severus had said he would be back in a few hours, and it was late afternoon now. He glanced the clock again, wondering what he should do. What could he do? It wasn't like he could leave the wards, and he had no way of contacting his godfather.

Draco wondered where Potter was. The two had barely talked all day. Draco knew that Potter was still mad at him. Part of him felt guilty for telling Severus about Potter's home life, but another part of him was unapologetic; he had done what he had to do. It wasn't like he expected Potter to be grateful to him or anything, but he had hoped that the tentative truce they had managed to build would last. Apparently it wouldn't. Draco wasn't sure why he cared so much. He and Potter had always been enemies, after all. But some small part of him had to give it up to the Gryffindor. After seeing what he had to deal with at home, some of Draco's antagonism had turned into grudging respect. He wondered if Potter felt the same way about him at all.  _Probably not_ , he thought.

Restless, Draco got up from the couch he was sitting on and tossed aside the book he was pretending to read. He paced around a few times before heading for the kitchen. Leaning against the table, he gazed out the window at the fading afternoon light. Earlier today, he had watched as Potter walked around the grounds, poking around in the trees and shrubs. Where was Potter now? He had been skulking around all day. It unsettled him, seeing Potter in the familiar setting of Severus' home.

Draco was pouring himself some water when Potter walked in.

"Severus should've been back by now."

Harry just shrugged.

"I don't know why I expected you to care," Draco muttered.

"Yeah, I don't know why you expected that either," Harry shot back.

Draco bit back an angry retort; it wouldn't help him to argue with Potter now. He lifted his glass of water absentmindedly before setting it back down again. He turned his back on the window, and went to his room.

000

Harry had spent most of the day exploring his surroundings; he figured it was the perfect time to do so, since Snape wasn't here breathing down his neck. The place was nice. Harry wasn't sure what kind of place he had expected Snape to live in, but it wasn't this. The grounds were shrouded by trees, creating a large, protected backyard. It would probably be a good place to play some Quidditch, if it weren't Snape's house. The rest of the rooms in the house were all similar to the one he had slept in, decorated in greens and blues and crammed with books. He had briefly examined what looked like a potions cabinet, but hadn't given it too much attention; he was sure Snape would notice if anything were moved even a centimeter. There was a small door next to the cabinet that seemed to lead downstairs to some sort of basement, which was probably where Snape brewed his potions. Harry hadn't gone down there.

Now, Harry was sitting on the couch, reading one of his textbooks. It was good to have his supplies back; he could finally start some of his homework. Stretching, Harry decided he would fix something to eat; Snape wasn't back yet, and it was getting late.

As Harry was opening a cabinet, a loud popping noise made him spin around. He squinted out at the dark yard, noticing a figure on the edge of the property.

At the noise, Draco had left his room and come into the kitchen. He rushed to the window, peering out at the source of the noise.

"Is that Snape?" Harry asked, uncertain.

"I don't know...it's gotten dark...," Draco muttered.

"It couldn't...no one could get past these wards, could they?" Harry asked.

Draco turned to him. "What do you mean? You think there's a Death Eater out there?" Draco asked.

"I'm not saying there is. I'm just...wondering," Harry said. "Why aren't they coming closer?"

"I'm going out there," Draco said.

"What? What if it  _is_  a Death Eater?"

"And what if it's Severus?"

"Well, I'm coming with you then," Harry said.

Draco blinked, surprised. "All right then. Bring your wand."

The boys cautiously moved outside, grass and twigs crackling beneath their feet. They reached the edge of the property, and the shadowy figure came closer into view.

It was Snape. He was bent over, leaning against a tree. His hand was pressed against his arm.

"Severus!" Draco called, rushing over toward him.

"Draco," Snape answered, voice quiet.

"You're hurt," Draco said, unsure what was wrong.

"It is nothing. Just a scratch."

"Then why have you been leaning against this tree instead of coming inside?" Harry cut in, eyes focused on Snape's arm.

"That is none of your business, Potter," Snape said, an edge in his voice despite his tiredness.

"Do you need anything?" Draco asked.

Snape paused before answering. "Yes, fetch me some dittany. And the potion in the small green bottle."

Draco nodded and left. Harry was left staring at Snape. A growing uneasiness was settling over him.

"Was something wrong with Dumbledore? What happened?"

Snape glared at him. "Quiet, Potter. The Headmaster is fine."

"Then why are you hurt? Was it something with the Order?"

Snape didn't answer. Draco came back a few minutes later with the supplies, which Snape took. He swallowed from the bottle before applying some of the dittany to the wound on his arm; when he drew back his robes, Harry saw that it was a deep, even slash.

After applying the potions, Snape seemed to regain his strength.

"Inside," he said, stalking ahead of the boys back toward the house. Once they were all inside, Severus took a seat at the kitchen table.

"Sit," he said, pointing toward the chairs opposite him. Harry and Draco sat next to each other, uncharacteristically quiet. Both of their eyes were glued on Snape.

Harry's mind was racing with possibilities. Snape was supposed to go and talk to Dumbledore about the Dursleys, wasn't he? Something must really have gone wrong for him to come back wounded; something must've happened with the Order. His heart pounded in his chest as he considered the fact that someone could be hurt...maybe even dead... _Don't go there!_  He thought. Surely Snape would have said immediately if someone had died?

"I am going to give both of you a brief account of what happened," Snape said. "This is all I will tell you, so don't ask any pointless questions afterward. Do not share this information with anyone else," he added. "There was...a complication when I visited the Headmaster. I needed to intervene in some Order business. There were some injuries, but Madam Pomfrey is tending to them and everyone will be fine."

"Who's injured?" Harry asked immediately, face white. "How badly?"

Snape seemed to be considering how to answer. "Professor Dumbledore and Remus Lupin were the ones involved; both of them will fine."

"Remus is hurt?" Harry asked, voice shaking.

"I told you, he will be fine," said Snape. "I cannot go into detail about what has happened. I will visiting the Headmaster again tomorrow; perhaps I will learn more then."

Snape was surprised that Harry didn't ask anything else after that.

"I've had a very long day, and I will be going to bed soon. As you are recovered, Potter, you will sleep in the guest bedroom with Draco. I will transfigure another bed there," he said, rising from the table. Harry and Draco sat in silence for a few more minutes, listening to the scrapes and bangs Snape made as he moved around.

A few minutes later, Snape came back into the kitchen and informed them that the room was ready. He retired to his room, closing the door behind him with a click.

"Are you hungry?" Draco asked. Harry shook his head.

"I'm just going to bed," Harry muttered, suddenly wanting to be anywhere but the kitchen. The room felt too small, too bright. He went to Draco's room, where a new bed stood. He crawled into it, resting his head against the coolness of the pillow.

Harry closed his eyes. He felt drained, and he wanted to go to sleep, but he wasn't sure he would be able to.  _Remus almost died because of me_. The thought was jarring. It wouldn't go away. It repeated itself, over and over.  _Remus almost died because of me_.

Sometime later, Draco came into the room. Harry had no idea how much time had passed, his thoughts circling in the same unpleasant loop.

"I made some dinner if you want any, Potter."

Harry didn't answer. Draco sighed.

"You don't need to be so dramatic. Severus said everyone is fine."

It took Harry so long to answer that Draco thought he had fallen asleep. His voice was a whisper.

"Remus almost died because of me."

"Don't be ridiculous," Draco answered, uneasily. Harry didn't speak again.

 


	16. Chapter 16

Harry woke up early the next morning. He turned over in bed, attempting to fall back asleep, but it was no use. He was up; his internal clock from waking up early at the Dursleys' seemed to have set itself back on track. Sitting up, he glanced over at Draco. The semi-darkness cloaked him, his back to Harry. Harry got up, trying to be quiet, and slipped out the door.

He entered the kitchen, pausing near the window. The sun was just starting to creep up, its rays feebly pushing at the ground. Harry watched for a few minutes, feeling calm. Much calmer than he had last night. He was surprised that he had slept so well; if he had had any nightmares, he couldn't remember them.

Faint echoes of the panicked feeling from last night started to creep up on him again. Harry needed to do something. He opened up one of Snape's cabinets and spotted some tea. He started making it, the mindless task, one he had done hundreds of times, calming him back down. Before he knew it he had opened up the fridge and ingredients were spread out about him, a full breakfast in the works.

Working like this allowed Harry to start thinking about last night again. It was like he could think about it without actually having to think about it, somehow. He had just panicked when he heard that Remus was hurt. It was like his mind had shut off. It was just like when he had thought that Voldemort was holding Sirius captive, or when he had found out that Nagini had attacked Mr. Weasley. All rational thoughts flew out of his mind, replaced by the blind fear that someone he cared about was hurt because of him. It was a feeling he wished he weren't so familiar with.

Harry looked down, surprised; he hadn't realized how much food he was making. He supposed he had better stop. He scooped all the food he had made onto plates and set them down on the table, serving himself a little before sitting down. The food was pretty good, he had to admit.

Harry was eating, lost in thought, when Snape came in. Harry nearly dropped his fork.

"I thought I heard someone moving around," Snape said, eyes focused on Harry.

"Er, yeah," said Harry. "I didn't mean to wake you up."

"It is no matter," said Snape. Then, after a pause, "Did you make coffee?"

"Er, yeah, it's over there," said Harry, uncomfortable.

Snape took his time pouring himself a cup of coffee before he sat down at the table. Harry could only stare at him. He couldn't imagine a more bizarre situation than having a cup of coffee with Severus Snape.

"I will be visiting the castle today," Snape said finally.

"Can I come?" Harry asked immediately.

Snape shook his head. "I do not think that wise, considering the current circumstances...Dumbledore still does not know you are with me now."

"Oh," said Harry, disappointed. He twirled his fork around his plate listlessly.

Snape watched him do that for a few minutes, trying to size up the boy. Finally, he said, "Perhaps you will be able to visit them later this week. Once I find out what the situation is."

Harry looked up, a flash of hope in his eyes. "Thank you, sir," he said. "And..thanks for helping Remus."

Snape was surprised by the boy's thanks, but he didn't show it. "It is my job, Potter."

Draco came in a few minutes later, eyes clouded by sleep. He sat down with a yawn. They ate breakfast in near silence. Once they had finished, Snape stood up and told Draco that he would be heading back to Hogwarts soon.

"I should really be only a few hours this time," he said, before heading outside to the apparation point.

000

Harry and Draco sat in awkward silence, Harry picking at his food while Draco gulped his down. Harry felt a bit...weird. He sort of regretted yelling at Draco the way he had the other day; he was still angry that he had told Snape about the Dursleys, but he had to admit things were a bit better here. And Draco had only been doing what he thought was right, even if Harry didn't exactly agree with it.

Harry cleared his throat. Draco looked up.

"Look...I'm sorry for being so short with you lately," Harry muttered. Draco set his fork down, watching Harry with narrowed eyes.

"Are you, Potter?" Draco asked, suspicious.

Harry played with his fork. "Uh...yeah. I was just upset about...everything, you know? It's kind of hard for me to deal with. I don't like other people knowing about….that stuff."

Draco watched Harry for a few minutes. "All right, Potter," he said finally, returning to his meal.

"So we're good?" Harry asked, cautious.

"We're good," Draco said, finishing his food and bringing his plate to the sink.

000

Severus stood in the Hogwarts infirmary, waiting impatiently for Madam Pomfrey to arrive. The beds were shrouded by screens, so he had no idea if Dumbledore or Lupin were awake yet. He desperately needed to talk to Dumbledore.

Severus was fairly confident that none of the werewolves had recognized him; he had created a diversion, and he thought that the smoke had hidden him from view. However, on the off chance that someone had seen him and reported it to Voldemort, things could get bad. His entire position as a spy would be compromise. Not to mention the fact that he still hadn't discussed the Potter situation. Yes, he needed Dumbledore to be better.

Madam Pomfrey came bustling over, hands full with potions bottles and magical bandages. She set them down on a nearby table.

"Severus," she said. "Good to see you."

"You as well, Poppy," Snape said, inclining his head slightly. "How are they doing?"

"Well, they're both out of it."

Severus cursed internally, but kept outwardly calm. "Do you know when they will recover?"

Madam Pomfrey shook her head. "It could be days...perhaps even a week or two. They were both hurt pretty badly. I should be able to patch them up, but it won't be quick."

Severus nodded, mind whirring. "Well, keep me updated; let me know right away if their position changes."

Madam Pomfrey agreed, giving Snape a tentative smile before excusing herself to get back to her work. Severus watched her go, an uneasy feeling rising in him.

000

Harry and Draco passed the next few hours quietly. Draco went outside to get some fresh air, strolling around the yard. Harry sat in their room, paging through one of his textbooks without really looking at it. He was still thinking about everything that had happened. And about what was going to happen now. Would he stay with Snape? Go somewhere else? How would he explain all of this to his friends? The thoughts were overwhelming, and he didn't really want to deal with them.

Harry wasn't sure how much time had elapsed when he heard the cracking noise that signalled that Snape was back. He heard Draco moving around, but stayed where he was. Even though Snape had been decent with helping Remus, he still didn't trust the man, or have any desire to interact with him more than was absolutely necessary. He ignored the drone of voices coming from the kitchen.

A few minutes later, he was interrupted by Draco sticking his head around the doorframe and informing him that Snape wanted to see him. Setting his book on the bed slowly, Harry got up, trying to stall as much as possible.

"Sit, Potter," Snape said when he came into the kitchen, pointing at a chair next to Draco. Resentful, Harry sat, crossing his arms over his chest.

"When I visited the castle today, neither Dumbledore nor Lupin were awake. Therefore, it looks like you will be staying here for the near future."

Harry scowled.

"Since that is the case, I have done some thinking. I believe it would be best for us to make this time worthwhile. For both of you."

"What does that mean?" Draco asked.

"Both of you will be practicing Occlumency with me."

"What?" Harry gasped, unable to stop himself. He couldn't put himself through Occlumency again. It had gone so horribly the first time…

Snape ignored his outburst. "I think it would be beneficial to both of you to have someone to practice with who is around the same skill level as you. We will begin tomorrow. I want you both to read the first chapter of this book by then," he said, producing two thick textbooks seemingly from thin air.

"And Potter," Snape added, "I would like to speak with you alone."

000

Harry found himself sitting at the kitchen table alone with Snape once again. This was two times too many, as far as Harry was concerned.

"I need to know," Snape began, "If you had any troubles lately-with your scar, with visions, dreams, anything of that nature."

"No," said Harry immediately. "Come to think of, that's pretty weird."

Snape nodded. "As I thought."

"Why?"

"It seems that the Dark Lord's last encounter with you at the Department of Mysteries was...scarring for him. I doubt he will attempt to make use of the connection between you two anytime soon," Snape said.

"Then why do I have to practice Occlumency again?" Harry blurted out before he could stop himself.

Snape turned his piercing stare on Harry. "I think, Mr. Potter," he drawled, "that you of all people should be familiar with the consequences of not learning these things. You need to do everything you can to protect yourself."

"Don't talk about Sirius like that!" Harry said, voice loud. His hands were clenched into fists beside him. How dare Snape? He was the one who had stopped teaching him in the first place...he was the one who had goaded Sirius about not doing anything useful….

"You'll have to work harder at controlling your emotions if you have any hope at succeeding at Occlumency," Snape said silkily, before exiting the kitchen with a swish of his robes. Harry sat glaring after him, trying to calm down.

000

The next morning found Draco, and Harry milling around outside, waiting for the lesson to begin. Draco had suggested they work outside, considering it was such a nice day. Harry didn't care where they were working; he knew it was going to be bad no matter what. He had no desire for either Snape or Malfoy to witness any more of his memories, and he had no desire to practice something he knew he was terrible at.

Soon Snape came striding over to them. Harry regarded him warily.

"You both read the assigned chapter?" Snape asked. Draco gave a verbal answer while Harry nodded his head.

"Very good," Snape said. "First, I will take turns invading both of your minds. I want you to watch, and see how you each attempt to defend yourselves. Today's lesson will be brief; tonight i want you to work on clearing your mind of emotions and reading the next few chapters. Then we'll work on it longer tomorrow. Ready?"

Harry was surprised that they were beginning so quickly, but nodded again.

"Very well, Potter, you can go first."

Harry scowled at Snape but stepped up closer to him, not going to show the man any weakness. Before he knew it, Snape had raised his wand and was in his mind.

_A dragon reared before him, sparks flying from its nostrils...he was cooking the Dursleys breakfast, listening to them talk about him as if he weren't there...he and Hermione were slipping the time turner around their necks...he lay before the Mirror of Erised, Quirrell standing over him...Uncle Vernon was shouting at him, pushing him into his cupboard with a sharp slap...Sirius...Sirius in the Department of Mysteries…_

No! Snape wasn't going to see that, Snape didn't deserve to see that...he was leaning over, hands on his knees, gasping for breath. Snape stood before him, watching him sharply.

"How did you do that, Potter?"

"Do what?" Harry asked, voice shaky.

"Push me out of your mind?"

"I...I don't know." He expected Snape to make a snide comment about that, but he only nodded and gestured for Draco to step closer.

Harry could barely pay attention to Snape and Malfoy. He felt shaky and weak; it was the same sick feeling he remembered from previous Occlumency lessons, only seeing Sirius like that had made it ten times worse. He was glad when Snape told them today's lesson was over, and let them leave. He needed to lie down for a bit.

 


	17. Chapter 17

A/N: This chapter picks up with the ending scene from last chapter, this time in Draco's perspective. Enjoy!

Draco felt nervous watching Potter practice Occlumency with Severus. He'd heard about Occlumency before, of course, growing up in Malfoy Manor. His father had told him he'd begin to teach it him once he was old enough, but had been hauled off to Azkaban before that could happen. He had read up about it briefly, and Severus had told him the basics. But actually doing it was something completely different, and he didn't want to make a fool of himself. Especially in front of Potter and his godfather. He didn't want Potter to judge him, and he didn't want Severus to be disappointed in him. He resolved that he would master it.

He watched as the trance Potter was in seemed to break; he was soon leaning over, hands on his knees, breathing ragged. How had he done it? That really hadn't taken him that long...what if it took Draco longer? What if-?

Severus was gesturing for Draco to step closer to him. He gripped his wand tightly and stepped forward. Before he knew it, Severus had raised his wand and uttered a quiet, "Legilimens".

Scenes whirred past Draco in a dizzying rush.  _He was riding a broomstick above the gardens at Malfoy Manor, the breeze ruffling his hair….He was sitting in a compartment on the Hogwarts Express with Crabbe and Goyle….Potter was ignoring his outstretched hand, Weasley at his side….His father was telling him he had disappointed him….._

Draco wasn't sure what happened, but he felt as though he were giving some type of weak push. Suddenly, the spinning scenes stopped, and the world swam into focus around him. Draco stumbled slightly, feeling dizzy. He leaned against a nearby tree, trying to clear his head.

"That will be all for today," Severus said, glancing at Draco.

000

Draco and Harry were both in subdued moods for the rest of the day. Around evening, a soft rain began to fall, breaking the silence of their shared room. Harry had been napping, back to Draco, when a low rumble of thunder startled him awake.

"What time is it?" Harry muttered, sitting up in bed.

"Around five," Draco answered. Harry groaned in response.

"Occlumency really takes it out of you," Harry said a few minutes later.

"Yeah, I don't feel great," Draco agreed. It was true; all day he had felt vaguely nauseous and dizzy.

"I don't get why I have to keep doing this," Harry said, looking at the rain streaked window with a sour expression.

"I suppose it's a useful skill to have."

Harry snorts. "Wasn't so useful before."

"You've had lessons before, I'm guessing?" Draco said. He knew something was up with Harry based on the way he reacted when Severus told them they would be practicing Occlumency, but he wasn't sure what it was.

"Yeah...Snape taught me last year.  _Tried_  teaching me," Harry corrected himself.

"Didn't go so well?" Draco guessed.

Harry shook his head. "Nope. I'm useless at it, to begin with, and Snape and I don't exactly get along. It was torture."

"I can see how that would be hard," Draco admitted. "But I don't think that means you should give up."

Harry sighed. "I know," he mutters. "I'm not...I'm not proud about it. Especially considering how things turned out."

"How things turned out?"

Harry stayed quiet for a few minutes before saying, "I figured you'd know."

"Know about what?" Draco said, curious.

"The reason I went to the Department of Mysteries...Voldemort put an image in my mind. Of Sirius being held there, being tortured. I thought it was real, so I went." Harry's voice was flat and cold, bitterness taking the place of the usual inflections of emotion he naturally spoke with.

Draco felt slightly sick when he heard that; he had had no idea, even though his father

was one of the key leaders involved in that plot. He tried to imagine someone tricking him like that, maybe under the guise of holding his mother hostage...he definitely would have reacted the way Potter had, no doubt about it.

"I'm sorry, Potter," Draco said. He meant it.

Harry shrugged. "If I had been better at Occlumency, I could've stopped it."

"Don't give yourself so much credit," said Draco. "The Dark Lord is extremely powerful. He has lots of ways of tricking people. Or destroying them." Draco was thinking of his mother when he said this, locked away somewhere, struggling with her sanity.

"I know," Harry said. "But...I still feel bad about it. I wish I hadn't reacted the way I did."

Draco knew that was true; he'd heard enough of Harry crying out in his sleep and twisting around on the floor, Sirius' name on his lips, to doubt that.

"You were doing what you thought was right. I would've reacted the same way," said Draco. He knew his words probably didn't mean much, but he hoped they meant something.

"Yeah?" Harry asked, voice hovering between disdain and hopefulness.

"Yeah," said Draco. "You shouldn't be so hard on yourself."

Harry sighed, then laughed briefly. "I guess so."

The conversation stopped after that, both boys falling back into their previous activities. Draco was reading the assigned chapters of the Occlumency book, while Harry lay back down and closed his eyes. He wasn't asleep, just thinking. Thinking about what Malfoy had said to him.

000

At breakfast the next morning, the rain was still holding up; in fact, it had become even heavier, droplets sliding down in sheets and rattling against the windowpanes.

"Looks like we can't practice outside," Draco said after a mouthful of toast.

"Hopefully we won't practice at all," Harry said quietly to Draco. Snape heard him, though, and shut down that hope.

"We will be practicing, Potter," Snape said. "We will just have to do so inside."

Harry scowled into his cornflakes.

"Perhaps we should start early today," said Snape after breakfast.

"Where are we going to practice?" Draco asked.

Snape considered the question. "We can practice in my potions lab...it is the only room with enough space. Let's meet in half an hour… perhaps you want to review the chapters you were assigned. I trust you've both read them."

Harry knew Snape was implying that he hadn't actually read the chapters, but he had. He'd even reread parts of the chapters when he didn't understand what the author was trying to say. After talking to Malfoy yesterday, a small part of him felt that his attitude was setting himself up for failure; he didn't want to give up this time. Although, he guessed it wouldn't hurt to review some of the stuff.

Once the half hour had passed, Harry followed Draco downstairs into Snape's potions lab. The room was large, with a stone floor and long desk covered with glass vials and cauldrons. It was like Snape's office at school, a large cabinet in the back of the room filled with vials and jars of slimy ingredients. Harry looked away in distaste, trying not to imagine the contents of the jars any further.

"Since you both read the chapters," began Snape, "tell me what Occlumency is."

"The art of closing your mind against external attacks, known as Legilimency," Malfoy answered promptly.

Snape nodded. "And how does one close the mind?"

"Emptying the mind of thoughts and emotion," Draco answered again.

"Good," said Snape. "And you both practiced that last night?"

Harry and Draco both nodded, although Harry hadn't had much success with it. He still didn't understand how to not feel anything.

"Since you did not feel like participating, Potter, you will go first." Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes. It wasn't like he'd even had a chance to answer, with Malfoy jumping right in like that. Besides, he already knew that stuff from his previous Occlumency lessons.

He watched Snape raise his wand, heard him utter  _Legilimens_ , and then the rush of memories began.

_Harry sat on the floor of the Chamber of Secrets, the world blurring around him….a hundred dementors reared before him, drawing closer...Aunt Marge was going on about how useless his parents were...He was five, watching Dudley play with new toys...Mr. Weasley was at St. Mungo's, sitting up in bed with a weak smile...He was sitting in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place with Sirius, laughing at something Fred and George had done…_

That was it; it was too painful for him to watch, let alone Snape. He pulled himself out of the memories. Snape watched him closely.

"Your turn, Draco."

Harry watched Draco step forward. He felt sick again; seeing Sirius like that was almost worse than seeing him in his dreams. It wasn't fair that he had to see him like that, and it wasn't fair that Snape got to, either.

Harry hadn't noticed, but Draco seemed to have finished. He looked paler than usual.

"Both of your efforts are weak," Snape said, though his voice held no malice. "I retreated when I felt you pushing for me to leave, but I easily could have repelled that."

Harry honestly didn't care how strong his attack had been; he just wanted to be left alone.

Draco looked disappointed though, and was shifting from foot to foot.

"Tell me what triggered your pushing me out of your mind; a specific memory? a change in your emotional state?" Snape asked.

Draco nodded. "I felt...I felt myself closing down when I pushed you out."

Snape nodded. Draco had begun to push him out during a memory of his father; he filed that thought away for later consideration.

"And you, Potter?"

"I didn't feel like that at all," said Harry. "If anything, I felt more emotional."

Snape frowned; that wasn't supposed to happen.

"It is...odd that that would be effective."

Harry shrugged.

Snape hadn't heard of an Occlumens using an excess of emotion to defend his mind before. But Potter did seem to like to break every rule...well, maybe it had been a fluke. He would have to test it out, to see if the boy could turn that into a useful tool.

"I want both of you to try to focus more on the way you felt when you pushed me out of your minds. Try to control it, to take a hold of that feeling."

"How are we supposed to that?" asked Harry, frustrated.

"It is different for every person. The only way to achieve it is to practice," Snape said.

"That's really helpful," Harry snapped.

"Manners, Potter," Snape said, a trace of a threat in his voice. "You will try again."

"Fine," Harry said, stepping closer.

"Not with me. With Draco," Snape said.

"What?" Harry asked.

"I want you and Draco to practice with each other. Since you are around the same skill level, it should be easier for you to throw each other out of your minds. Hopefully that will help you mount a stronger attack against me. " Snape had thought carefully about this plan; he figured that by practicing between themselves first, their minds would be weak enough for Draco and Potter to cast a Legilimens, and then to successfully push each other out.

"I don't know if that's a good idea, Severus," said Malfoy.

"It is a good idea, and you will do so," said Snape. "Decide which of you would like to go first."

"I guess I will," said Harry, glancing at Draco.

"Draco, cast the spell  _Legilimens_ , and concentrate on his eyes. Envision yourself entering his mind. It should be easier for you since I have already cast a  _Legilimens_."

Draco nodded, gripping his wand tighter. "Legilimens," he said, voice firm.

Nothing happened.

"You need to focus more than that," said Snape. "Don't break your eye contact."

Draco looked directly into Harry's eyes, which met his with defiance. They seemed to be taunting him, daring him to try and enter his mind. Draco steeled himself, and cast the spell again.

This time, it worked. Being on the other side of the spell was disorienting. The memories seemed to be moving slower; he wasn't sure if that was because he was on the other side of the spell, or if his spell was just a lot weaker than Severus' had been.

Either way, he seemed to be watching Potter's memories as though they were on a slideshow. He saw Harry playing a game of chess with Weasley, watching as one of his pawns was smashed off the board. Harry laughed easily and the scene changed...Harry was young, maybe five years old. He was placing glasses on the table, his head barely tall enough to peek over it. Suddenly, his hand slipped, and a loud cracking sound rang throughout the kitchen. Petunia was shouting at him, Harry backing up and looking at her with fearful eyes. She grabbed his arm, dragging him down the hall and toward the cupboard under the stairs. She opened it and shoved him inside, slamming the door behind her with another shout. Harry sat there, sniffling, in the dark.

Before Draco realized it, he was out of Harry's mind. Potter was glaring at him. He looked absolutely  _furious_.

"What're you playing at?" he nearly shouted.

"I didn't choose to see that, Potter!"

"Why did you stay on that memory so long?" he asked, voice shaking.

"I didn't choose to do that either!"

"Legilimens!" Harry said, wand pointing directly at Draco.

Clearly, Potter had put enough conviction into that spell, because Draco started witnessing his own memories. Draco saw his second year self sitting in the common room, crumpling up a letter from his father and tossing it into the fire….He was young, maybe nine or ten, and was leaning against Severus, crying, after unsuccessfully brewing a basic potion….Draco tried to close himself down, there was no way Potter should see that, no…

He threw Potter out of his mind, now equally upset.

"Watch yourself, Potter," he growled, raising his wand.

Harry raised his in response, but before he could say anything, Snape was talking over him.

"Both of you, stop this at once," he wasn't yelling, but his voice was the poisonous silk Harry was used to.

"You are behaving abominably. This is no way to react while performing dangerous magic. I want you to separate."

"Fine," said Harry, shoving his wand in his pocket and retreating without a backwards glance. Draco lowered his wand, glaring at his back as he left.

"What was the meaning of that?" Severus asked.

"His memories...when I cast the spell, they didn't flip through quickly like when you did….I saw a pretty lengthy scene. It wasn't good," said Draco. He felt bad about what he had seen, yes, but it wasn't like he had chosen to focus on that.

Snape sighed. "I should have warned you that would happen. I apologize."

Draco shrugged. "I'm not the one who's mad."  _He overreacts to everything_ , Draco thought.

"What did the memory you witness pertain to? Black?" Snape asked.

Draco shook his head. "No...it was from when he was younger." That sentence hung in the air, its implications lingering between Draco and Severus.

"Give Potter some time to cool off," Severus said finally. Draco nodded, before deciding he wanted to be alone.

000

That night, Snape was downstairs in his potions lab, thinking. He had just finished work on some dreamless sleep potion, which he needed to restock after giving some to Potter the other day. Now that he didn't have the potion brewing process to occupy his time, he was left to face his thoughts about what had happened today. He should've realized something like this could've happened, should have explained things more thoroughly or taken better precautions. He hadn't, and now he had an angry and unruly Potter to deal with.

He wished, desperately, that Dumbledore was awake. Dumbledore would know what to do here, would sort out the whole Potter situation. Severus didn't know if he could handle it. The boy was different than he had always thought, that much was clear, but that didn't erase the years of mutual dislike between them. And he wasn't trained to handle a child suffering from the aftereffects of abuse and neglect, not to mention one who had the weight of the magical world on his shoulders.

Severus had thought Occlumency would be a way to make their time together somewhat useful, but now he was reconsidering the idea altogether. He supposed he would have to talk to Potter, to get a better idea of the way he was feeling, but the thought of doing so wasn't exactly pleasant.

Well, he would consider it tomorrow. It was nearing midnight, and he needed to get some sleep. He considered taking a few sips of the potion he had just brewed, but decided against it; it was better not to get started on that habit again.

As Severus lifted one of the vials from the table, a sharp, searing pain almost made him drop it. He clenched his left arm, which was hot to the touch. His dark mark was burning. The Dark Lord was calling.

 

 


	18. Chapter 18

The silence was suffocating; the men stood, cloaked and hooded, in a circle, no one making a sound. Their masks caught the dim light every now and then, glinting softly. The light made the masks look even more sinister, an unnatural sheen sparkling on the ghostly contours.

Severus wondered where they were, swiveling his eyes as best he could underneath his mask. The magic enchanting Dark Marks was complicated and rare; it brought the man who bore one wherever Voldemort summoned them, contrary to the usual laws of apparition. The Dark Lord usually varied his meeting places, which made it more difficult for a potential spy among his ranks to divulge his location.

The room they were in now was less ornate than some of the Dark Lord's usual choices. Only a single light bulb swung overhead, its shadows illuminating a room that was bare and dull. Perhaps it was some kind of abandoned warehouse; the room was large, cracks running up and down the walls and a chill in the air. Severus fought the urge to shiver.

Sometimes, the Dark Lord kept his followers waiting for as long as an hour, allowing fear and paranoia to sink it among the men who stood devoted to him. It was a successful tactic, Severus thought. Standing alone in complete silence could turn your mind against you, especially when you were waiting on the presence of one of the most powerful dark wizards of all time. When Voldemort finally did arrive, the Death Eaters were often more likely to bow at his feet, hang on to his every word, and declare their undying loyalty.

Severus wished, for the dozenth time, that this wasn't happening tonight. He was so on edge after the whole situation with Potter and Draco, not to mention the recent problem with the werewolves and Albus….damn this! Did he know about Potter leaving his house? He might have had spies around the house, and if he did he would be upset that Snape hadn't brought it up to him earlier…

The minutes ticked away, the men in the circle remaining eerily silent. After an indeterminable amount of time, a hard bang echoed throughout the room.

The Dark Lord strode into the middle of the circle, long robes flowing around him. He stood there, watching them all out of his slitted eyes, lit with malice.

"I see you've all arrived." Voldemort's voice was cold and quiet, but his followers hung on every word. They broke out into bows and mutterings of "My Lord". Severus played along, bowing down before the man who believed himself his master.

"Silence." The instant the word fell from the Dark Lord's lips, the men quieted and straightened out, waiting for the next cue.

"I have some interesting news," Voldemort said, a hint of a humorless smile playing about his lips. Interesting news could be either good or bad, Severus knew. When it was good, the Dark Lord would revel in the glory of his accomplishments, and his Death Eaters would praise him for them. When it was bad, they often found themselves punished.

"The werewolf Remus Lupin was uncovered as a spy in one of our werewolf groups. You know these groups are an important gathering ground for potential servants to the Dark Lord," Voldemort said, referring to himself with his preferred title. "It would have been an excellent example had we killed him. However, it seems Dumbledore sent one of his puppets there to rescue the mutt…." Voldemort trailed off, fingering his wand lightly.

"What do you know of this, Severus?" asked the Dark Lord, turning the full intensity of his gaze onto Snape. Severus wondered if he knew that he had been the one to rescue Lupin; if he did, this could be the end for him. The thought was cold, clinical. That was the way he had to be, lest his emotions bubble up and disrupt the Occlumency he employed.

"I have heard of the incident, My Lord," Snape said, voice even. He knew he had the upper hand here; despite the fact that Voldemort had many spies, Snape was the only spy he had at Hogwarts, the only spy Dumbledore confided in. "Dumbledore sent Sturgis Podmore, one of his Order members, to rescue Lupin." Severus thought it was a safe enough choice; the man was low enough in the Order that he wasn't sent on high profile missions, but still skilled enough in defense to be a plausible candidate for a mission like this. Severus also knew that the man was in the country, not away on some other mission, should Voldemort choose to investigate further.

"I see," said Voldemort, eyes completely unreadable as they bored into Severus's own. Severus met his gaze unflinchingly, and after a few moments Voldemort looked away, apparently satisfied.

"And where is the werewolf now?"

"Recovering in the hospital wing at Hogwarts, My Lord," Snape said. He left out the fact that Dumbledore was there as well for obvious reasons; if Voldemort suspected any weakness on Dumbledore's part, there was no knowing what move to attack he might make.

"Have you seen him?" Voldemort asked, gaze now back in place.

"No, My Lord. Dumbledore spoke with me about it."

"I see," said Voldemort. Snape nearly shivered; he detected something strange in Voldemort's voice. Did he know about Dumbledore? Did he know Snape was lying?

"You should have come to me with this information sooner, Severus," Voldemort said, the s's low hisses, the threat lingering in the words.

"I know, My Lord," Snape said, bowing his head slightly. "Dumbledore has been keeping close watch on me after the incident."

"There are ways, Severus," Voldemort hissed, now twirling his wand between his fingers. "When you gather new information, you should always tell your Lord," Voldemort was now addressing the room at large; the men nodded their heads and uttered earnest "Yes, My Lord"s.

"I think you need a little lesson to drive that point home," Voldemort said. The Death Eaters stood still now, gazing at their leader with bated breath. They knew what was coming next.

" _Crucio_ ," Voldemort said, eyes flashing with anger. Severus fell to the ground, the spell coursing through him, the pain cutting along his limbs, his mind.

000

Harry longed for somewhere to go that wasn't Snape's house. After that disastrous Occlumency lesson, he needed to escape. As usual, though, he was caged in, stuck in a house he didn't want to be in. He had ended up outside, lounging against the back wall of the house, the gutter blocking out most of the rain. He had stayed there for a while, gazing out at the rain as it beat down.

Anger had come to him in fits and starts. At first, he was furious. Furious at both Snape and Malfoy. Hell, he was even furious at Dumbledore. Why was Snape making him take these damned lessons, when they both knew Harry couldn't do it? Who was he to force him to relive his worst memories? And Draco must've known what he was doing, must've had more practice than he let on. How else had he honed in on that memory, specifically to embarrass him? Harry couldn't believed he'd begun to trust the boy; he realized how stupid that was now. Malfoy was nothing but a filthy Slytherin, and news about poor pathetic Harry Potter's home life would probably be all around the school in no time.

Harry clenched his hands into fists at his sides. He wanted to hit something or someone right now, wanted to let out some of this uncontained emotion; he couldn't handle it. In a fit of impulse, he smashed his knuckles into the side of the house. It didn't do anything except hurt Harry; a stinging sensation spread throughout his hand. Harry found that he didn't mind it; in fact, the way it hurt was kind of nice. It distracted him from the way he was feeling. He punched the house again, revelling in the pain.

It would be much better if he could fight Malfoy or Snape, but he knew that wasn't going to happen. He supposed he could try to start something with Malfoy, but he felt like being alone. Eventually, he slid down the wall and sat on the ground, cold and wet. He wrapped his hands around his knees and stared out at the yard for a while more.

000

Draco had done as Severus suggested. He retreated to the room and shut the door, giving Harry whatever space he needed. He sank down onto the bed, running his hands through his hair. They shook slightly when he pulled them away.

It wasn't right for Potter to keep snapping at him like this. He felt badly about what he had seen, but that didn't mean he had enjoyed it. For Potter to even think he would enjoy watching a child hurt like that was low. Was that how Harry really thought of him? Well, he supposed that they didn't have the best history, but surely Potter had noticed that he'd changed. Draco thought he'd changed.

And Potter had seen some bad memories of Draco's too; didn't he have the right to be upset about that? It wasn't like he had accused Potter of anything, thrown angry insults at him and ran away like a child. What gave Potter the right to react like that?

Draco tried to calm down, but he couldn't stop thinking about it. He replayed the scene in his head, a tiny Harry hurt and confused and shoved into a broom cupboard. Suddenly, Draco remembered the drawing he had seen in that same cupboard over the summer, and the funny look on Potter's face when he'd mentioned it to him. His stomach felt cold. They must've shoved him in that cupboard whenever they felt like, putting him out of sight like he was some cleaning supplies or an old jacket.

Harry's words came back to him, unbidden, from one of the times they had spoken honestly to each other. " _They've always locked me away, you know. It seemed worse to me than getting hit, sometimes."_

Draco put his head into his hands. He wished he could talk to Harry about it. He wanted to let him know that he hadn't been playing a joke on him, that he had no idea what he was doing….

It wasn't like he could do that now, thought. Feeling weak and uneasy, a pit of anxiety worming around his stomach, Draco lay down on the bed and closed his eyes. He willed the images that flashed across his mind to go away.

000

Draco woke up, confused, in the dark. He turned over, fumbling for the clock on his bedside table; it was nearly one in the morning. He sat up, shaking his head. He contemplated rolling over and going back to sleep, but an overwhelming feeling of thirst led him to the kitchen.

He was surprised to see Harry, awake and sitting at the kitchen table. He turned when Draco walked in.

Draco ignored Harry, heading straight for the sink. He poured himself a glass of water, gulped it down, and poured out another one.

He was on his way back to the room, resolutely ignoring Potter the whole way, when he decided to check and see if Severus was still awake. When he pushed open the door to his room, emptiness greeted him. He was probably working on a potion, then; Draco knew he probably shouldn't disturb him, but he desperately wanted to see a friendly face.

He went down the steps to the potions lab; the light was on, so he called out his godfather's name. When he got to the foot of the stairs, an empty lab stretched out before him. No; something was wrong here. Where was Severus? He never left without telling Draco where he was going.

Draco bounded up the stairs and into the kitchen.

"Have you seen Severus?" he panted, his resolve to ignore Potter completely gone. Harry looked at him, an odd expression on his face.

"No," he said. "Why?"

Draco's face drained of color. "He's gone. He's not in his room and he's not in his lab." Draco couldn't keep the note of panic from edging into his voice. Harry picked up on it.

"Calm down," he said bracingly. "Let's think about it."

Draco nodded. He was thinking about it, and his thoughts weren't good.

"He's probably with Him," Draco whispered. He fell down into the nearest chair, all his nervous energy now gone.

"With who?" Harry asked.

"He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named," Draco said automatically. Harry stared at him.

"You think so?" he asked. Now he was the one who stood up; his footsteps echoed as he started pacing around the kitchen.

"I can't think of anywhere else he'd go at this hour," Draco muttered, staring at the wood of the table. "He could've told us before he left though…" his voice trailed off. "What if something bad's happened to him?" When he looked up, he noticed that Harry was staring at him.

"Right," Harry said, and resumed his pacing. "I don't know who we could contact," he said, a hiss of air escaping from his lips. "Dumbledore's still in the hospital wing…" he trailed off, frustration edging into his voice. "I could try to floo McGonagall or someone, but they're probably away…unless someone's watching the fires at Hogwarts..." Harry trailed off, rubbing his jaw.

Draco watched him silently. He couldn't process anything right now, but was grateful that Potter was honestly trying to help.

"I don't know what we can do but wait," Harry finally said. He glanced at Draco. "You, uh, don't look so good. Maybe you should try and go back to bed...I can wait up for him." Draco only shook his head.

"Yeah, alright," Harry muttered, finally taking a seat across from Draco. "We'll just wait together, then."


	19. Chapter 19

Harry's head slipped from his hand and he jerked awake, blinking rapidly. He had nearly fallen asleep, lulled by the silence between him and Draco. But he had heard a noise, and apparently Draco had too; he shot to his feet, pulling out his wand.

"Did you hear that?" Draco asked him, peering out at the darkened yard.

"Yeah," said Harry. "It sounded like apparition. Snape must be back."

In a now semi-familiar act, the boys cautiously crept out into the front yard, wands raised before them. They found Snape at the edge of the yard.

"Severus!" Draco called out, bounding over to him with a slight reproach in his voice. He stopped suddenly when he got a good look at him.

"Something's wrong with him," Draco said with an edge of panic.

Harry came over just as quickly. Snape was completely white, his eyes closed, swaying on his feet. Harry noticed that the sleeve of his left arm was rolled up a bit; he could see the black edge of the Dark Mark that was imprinted into his skin. He felt sick.

"You were right before," Harry decided. "He was with Voldemort."

"How d'you-" Draco began, eyes glued to Snape's face, but Harry cut him off.

"I think he's been Crucio'd. We need to get him inside."

Draco opened his mouth as if to speak, but closed it and nodded. They each slung one of Snape's arms around their shoulders and brought him into the kitchen, depositing him in a chair.

"All right," said Harry, running a hand through his hair. "I'm going to go check that potions cabinet of his and see if he has any of the stuff Madam Pomfrey gave me before. Watch him and make sure he doesn't fall asleep yet."

Harry walked quickly toward the potions cabinet, mind racing. He was remembering what Madam Pomfrey had said to him when he had gotten back from the Graveyard and the Ministry, visualizing the thick, dark blue potion she had given him. He knew he could find it if he saw it.

When he reached the cabinet, he started going through the vials and bottles, opening and sniffing a few. Finally, he found what he was looking for and headed back toward the kitchen.

"Here," he said, handing the vial to Draco. "Make sure he drinks a few swallows." Malfoy nodded and held the potion up to Severus, pressing it against his lips and tilting his head back.

"Will he be okay now?" Draco asked, swinging his eyes from Severus to Harry.

"I think so," Harry answered. "I mean, he was strong enough to apparate. I think he just needs some rest."

Draco nodded. "Ill just...bring him to his room then." Harry watched as he helped Snape up and brought him down the hall to his room. He sat down at the table with a sigh, rubbing his eyes beneath his glasses. He was still mad at Snape, but seeing him like that, clearly suffering the aftereffects of the Cruciatus Curse...well, it put things in perspective a bit. He sighed again, wishing he hadn't seen it; it would make hating the man much easier.

Draco came back into the kitchen. "How'd you know what to give him? You gave him the right potion, right?"

Harry looked up. "I've taken it before."

"You've been Crucio'd?" asked Draco, voice high-pitched.

"Yeah," Harry said, with a small smile. "Surprisingly, Voldemort hasn't been too happy to see me."

"Merlin, Potter," said Draco, sitting down at the table across from Harry. "That's not something you should joke about."

Harry smiled again, but didn't say anything. He glanced at the clock; it was nearing four in the morning. The late hour made everything feel different, somehow. Like the air was more still.

"You know I didn't choose to see that memory."

Harry glanced at Malfoy; he was staring at him intently. Harry noticed again how  _exhausted_  he looked, and suddenly felt a twinge of regret for the way he had reacted earlier.

"I know," he muttered, looking down again. Draco didn't say anything. "It's just been-"

"It's been hard for me too," said Draco. He didn't sound angry, just tired. "You can't keep snapping at me, Potter. I've got my problems too. "

"I know you-"

"Do you?" Draco asked quietly. Harry didn't say anything. He ran his hands through his hair, frustrated. He knew Draco was making a good point; he had been like a git lately, lashing out at Draco. It would have been simpler if they had remained enemies and he could justify his actions, but he knew that things had changed between them. It was just so much easier to vent his anger at Draco than actually confronting the way he was feeling. And Draco was right; he did have his own problems. His father was in prison, his mother was….well, what exactly was wrong with his mother? The hints he had dropped hadn't sounded good. Having a godfather who was spying for Voldemort couldn't be that easy, either; he knew that if Sirius had come back like that, nearly unable to stand, Harry would've been a wreck. He suddenly felt guilty. He opened his mouth to apologize when Draco interrupted him.

"What's wrong with your hands?"

"Huh?" asked Harry.

"Your hands. You're hurt."

Harry looked down at his hands; he had forgotten that he had punched the side of the house earlier today. Some of his knuckles were split, a few of them bruised a dark purple.

"Oh," said Harry. "I, er, hit something."

"You hit something?"

"Yeah. I was upset. I, uh, punched the side of the house."

Draco only stared at him. "You punched the side of the house?" he finally asked.

"Don't look at me like that," said Harry, rolling his eyes.

"Right," said Draco. After a few minutes of silence, he stood up. "I'm going to bed." He walked away. Harry could hear the faint click of the door closing behind him. He stayed at the kitchen table for a while longer, mind running through his conversation with Draco.

000

Draco was up early the next morning. He'd had a hard time sleeping, and, after waking up for the tenth time from a fitful rest, had decided to just get up. He was outside, cup of coffee in hand, watching the sun rise.

He was thinking. He honestly hadn't meant to talk to Potter the way he had last night, but he was so tired and afraid that the words had come pouring out of his mouth. He hoped it might do some good, but he wasn't very confident in that.

He was also thinking about Potter's hands. Clearly the boy was having some problems. Draco had seen him angry before, but it had been different at Hogwarts. That had been the anger of rivals taunting each other. This...this was something different. He wondered if something were seriously wrong with Harry. He had seen firsthand his mood swings at Privet Drive, heard the way his relatives talked to him, listened to his crying out in the middle of the night.

Draco understood where Potter was coming from, he thought. He had masked his feelings behind anger and disdain for most of his life. He was only now starting to come out of that, but he knew firsthand the effects it had on you. He didn't want Potter to deal with that. To become like him.

Sighing, Draco stood up, brushing off his pants as he did so. He decided he would talk to Severus about it.

000

Severus snapped his eyes open. He was lying in his bed, but he didn't remember getting there. What had happened last night? The Death Eater meeting...it came back to him in flashes.

Severus realized that he wasn't in any pain; that was odd. He definitely hadn't been in any shape to take his usual restorative potion, but none of the familiar aches were shooting through his body. He felt...fine. Almost good.

Tentatively, Severus sat up, swinging his legs down over the side of the bed when he realized he really wasn't in any pain. He'd definitely been Crucio'd though; his memory had come back to him on that count. The Dark Lord certainly hadn't been pleased with him.

Entering the kitchen, Severus noticed that Draco was already awake and sitting the table, mug in front of him.

"Good Morning, Draco."

"Severus," Draco said, the worry clear in his voice. "How are you doing?"

"I'm fine," Snape said, pouring himself a cup of coffee and joining Draco at the table.

"You didn't look so fine last night." Severus detected the faint hint of reproach in his words.

"Did you help me to my chambers?"

"You don't remember?"

Severus shook his head.

"Potter and I helped you. He brought you some potion, too. "

" _What?_ " Severus said, nearly choking on his coffee.

"He brought you a potion. He said it would help you," Draco said, eyeing Severus with confusion.

"You let Potter go poking around my potion stores? Do you realize how dangerous that is? He could've brought me the wrong potion. He could've killed me," Severus said, voice icy.

"He said he knew which one to get," said Draco, on the defensive. "And it wasn't like you were in any position to get it yourself!"

"That is my concern."

"No, it's not," Draco snapped. "You can't just leave here like that, not tell me where you're going! It's not fair to make me worry like that!"

The two stared at each other, the tension palpable. Harry walked into the room. They both looked at him.

"Er, sorry," he said, making to leave. Clearly he had stumbled into some sort of personal argument.

"Sit," snapped Snape.

Harry blinked, but slowly made his way to the table.

Snape stood up, waving his wand; breakfast ingredients flew out of the cupboards and the fridge. With another swoop, food started preparing itself. Snape stalked over to the stove, watching the progress.

Harry glanced at Draco, but he wasn't looking at him.

When the food had finished, Snape set it in front of the boys with a thud.

"Eat," he said, when neither of the boys made any move. Harry picked up his fork, watching as Draco didn't touch his. He took a few bites, surprised that it was actually very good.

"I have come to understand that you gave me a Crucio restoration potion last night, Potter."

Harry swallowed his food. "Er, yes sir."

"That was extremely foolish of you. You are not to go into my stores without my express permission, is that understood?"

Harry opened his mouth, slightly annoyed, but Draco beat him to it. "Yes, we should just watch you suffer instead of doing anything. Understood, sir. Great idea."

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose.

"I do not need to tell a pair of teenage boys my every action. Where I go and what I do is my business."

"Would it be your business if you didn't come back, and we were left here with no idea where you went?"

Snape didn't reply. Harry was actually speechless; he couldn't believe that someone else was fighting with Snape like this.

"In the event of my disappearance, I trust that a pair of wizards would manage to take care of themselves."

"That's not the point!" Draco huffed.

"Stop being dramatic," Snape snapped.

"You're impossible," Draco snarled, standing up.

"Watch your tone," Snape hissed at Draco's retreating back. He turned his attention back on Harry, who swallowed another mouthful with a large gulp.

"Are we clear, Potter?"

Harry nodded; he decided it would be better not to press the man right now. Snape glared at him for a few seconds before walking away, leaving his plate of food untouched.

Harry picked up his fork and finished his meal.

000

Later that night, Harry joined Draco in their room. Draco still seemed upset; Harry had spent his day outside, giving him his space.

"That was some fight you had," Harry said.

Draco scowled. "He never admits when he makes a mistake. He easily could've told us before he left."

Harry nodded.

"And I don't care what he said. You were right to give him that potion."

Harry nodded again. "I wouldn't have given it to him if I had any doubts about it, anyway."

"Exactly. He's infuriating. He never lets anyone help him."

Harry was surprised by Draco's talkativeness; he guessed that if he hadn't been so upset, he never would've been so open with Harry.

"You can be the same way, you know."

"What?" said Harry, thinking he had heard wrong.

"You're like him. You never let anyone help you. It's exhausting."

Harry immediately wanted to say that he was nothing like Snape, but the look on Draco's face stopped him.

"You were right about what you said last night," said Harry, hoping to change the topic. "I need to...I shouldn't snap at you so much."

Draco snorted, but didn't say anything.

"Is that…" Harry began, unsure what he was going to say.

"Fine," Draco said. He stood up. "Let's make some dinner."

Harry followed him out of the room, slightly confused by the conversation.

000

Snape had spent most of the day in his potions lab. He was furious with Draco, and decided it would be better if they weren't around each other; Severus had a sharp tongue, and he didn't' want to say anything that he would regret.

He knew there was some grain of truth in Draco's words, but he wasn't going to admit that to him; Severus was the adult here, after all, and he had to establish his authority. He brushed away his guilt by focusing on his potions.

When he went upstairs late that night, the house was still around him. He stepped outside for some fresh air when the owl swooped down toward him, letter tied around its

It looked like a Hogwarts owl. Severus untied the scroll quickly.

_Severus,_

_Dumbledore is awake. Come to the castle whenever you can._

_Poppy_


	20. Chapter 20

Severus stood perfectly still. He held the letter in his hand, staring at Poppy's looped handwriting. The owl must've arrived that afternoon while he was down in the potions lab and, instructed to deliver it only to him, perched in the branches surrounding his house until he came out. Half of Severus wanted to leave right now, but the more rational part of his brain pushed that thought away. It wouldn't be good to leave in the middle of the night again, no matter if he left a note; besides, Dumbledore was probably fast asleep by now, under the influence of some powerful pain-remedying potions. No, this could wait for morning.

He would have to tell the boys the truth about where he was going, that much was clear. However strange the thought was, he owed this to Potter; he had sworn to protect him, and look what had happened. As Severus retreated to his bedroom, he wondered how much he was to blame for what had happened to the boy. His medical scan that first night he brought him here had revealed a long history of injuries; the attack he had witnessed was nothing new. Had his own hatred toward the boy blinded him from seeing the obvious?

The question was an uncomfortable one to ponder, especially since Severus had always prided himself on his powers of observation. If he thought back to it, had the signs always been there? The boy had always been small for his age, too thin, but sometimes children were just small; with all the protection of Dumbledore, with all the gold in his vault, with the adoration of the entire wizarding world given to the boy, Severus had assumed everything in his life was fine.

 _That's not a good enough excuse_ , he told himself.  _You made a promise to Lily. You failed._ He had known Petunia as a child, hadn't he? He had known what kind of person she was…

Severus had tried to keep these thoughts away, to push them underneath his concern for his godson, but he couldn't seem to stop them from bubbling up now. It had been easy to push things aside with everything that had been going on: the werewolf attack on Lupin and Dumbledore, the Death Eater meeting, Occlumency… but he couldn't hide from it forever.

He knew someone needed to talk to the boy, to uncover the extent of the abuse, to help him heal. Severus certainly wasn't the right person for that job, but now, he doubted whether Dumbledore was either. He supposed he would have to see what happened during their conversation.

Wrestling with these thoughts, Severus fell into an uneasy sleep, punctuated with a woman's cries and flashes of green light.

000

Severus woke up early the next morning; he hadn't gotten much rest, and the day's events loomed out unpleasantly before him. He set about making coffee and cooking breakfast, although he didn't have much of an appetite.

Harry and Draco stumbled into the kitchen a few hours after Severus had. He eyed them as they helped themselves to some food. Severus couldn't quite grasp what the relationship between the two was; just the other day they had been at each other's throats, but now they seemed fine. He suspected that they might even care for each other, odd as that thought was.

Severus cleared his throat. Both boys looked up.

"I am going to visit the Headmaster today."

Draco and Harry looked at each other.

"He's awake, then?" Harry asked, voice quiet.

Severus nodded. "It appears so." He paused. "I should be gone for a few hours. When I return, I will share any pertinent information with you."

Harry nodded, face pale.

Severus glanced at Draco, who was resolutely ignoring him. He resisted the urge to chastise the boy and ignored him in turn.

"Very well. I will be on my way then."

Severus finished off his glass of water, brought it over to the sink with a flick of his wand, and headed outside. The day was cool, gray clouds shading the sky. He apparated as soon as he left the wards.

000

Harry stared down at his oatmeal, turning his spoon around and around. His appetite had vanished, along with any positive prospects he may have had for the day.

He could feel Draco watching him.

"Want to do anything today?" Draco asked.

Harry shrugged. "Not much to do around here."

"We could go flying."

Harry looked up. "Flying? Is that allowed here?"

Draco shrugged. "I don't see why not. As long as we stay within the wards it should be fine. And," he added after a slight pause, "I don't exactly see why we'd have to tell Severus."

Harry thought about it. "Yeah, alright," he said with a slight smile. "Let's go."

"I have a broom in the shed outside. I'll meet you out there," Draco said, smiling to himself. His plan seemed to be working perfectly; he'd be able to cheer Harry up and annoy Severus at the same time, since he was sure his godfather would've liked them to ask before flying.

He opened the shed doors and pulled out his old Nimbus 2001, along with some enchanted golf balls they could use as snitches. Draco tossed one up in the air, watching as it zoomed off. He climbed on his broom, ready to chase it.

"Hey, wait!" Harry called, hopping on his broom and kicking off.

"Catch up if you can, Potter!" Draco called, grinning as he sped away.

000

This time, Severus's walk into Hogwarts was much quicker; he was there before he knew it, and he took a breath to steel himself before he stalked into the castle. He almost started off toward the Headmaster's office before he realized that Dumbledore was probably still in the Hospital Wing. He strode off in that direction instead.

Poppy was waiting for him when he arrived.

"Oh good, Severus, I was worried you hadn't gotten my owl."

"I was in the lab all day," Severus said. "My apologies."

"Oh, nothing to apologize for, dear."

"Is Albus awake now?"

Poppy nodded. "Yes, and I've told him you were coming. He's just behind that curtain." Madame Pomfrey gestured to a bed near a window; it was shrouded on all sides by a long white curtain.

"I'll just...leave you to it, then," Madame Pomfrey said finally. She left with a thin smile, glancing back at Severus once with a look of clear concern on her face.

This was it then.

Severus stepped over to the bed, pulling back one of the curtains. Poppy had set a chair near Dumbledore's bedside, where the man was sitting up, leaning against one of several plump pillows that cluttered the thin hospital bed. He had personalized his blankets as well; a large purple comforter stretched out over him, star spangled sheets peeking out from underneath.

"Severus, my dear boy," Albus said, peering at him from over his glasses. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Snape ignored the question and took his seat.

"A surprise, is it?" Dumbledore asked cheerily.

"Apparently," Snape answered, a bitter smile twisting his face.

"Is something wrong?"

"Everything is wrong," Snape snapped. He stood up.

"Severus," Albus began, smile now gone. "Please. Tell me what's wrong."

"What's wrong," Snape spat, "is Harry Potter. More specifically, his pitiful home life."

"What on earth do you mean?"

"How could you just leave him there, Albus? Without even checking on him? All those years," Severus said, trying hard to maintain control. He could feel his temper slipping away.

"Has something happened?" Dumbledore's face was grave.

"Obviously," Snape sneered. He paused. "I received a letter from Draco, informing me that Potter's relatives were mistreating them."

"Mistreating?"

"They starved the both of them. Hit Potter, had him slaving away like a house elf all day. When I came to retrieve the boys, I stumbled on quite a scene." He paused again. "The oaf of an uncle was shaking Draco. He'd already done enough to Potter to render him nearly unconscious."

Severus hadn't realized how truly angry he was until he spat all of this out. He folded his arms across his chest and turned away, trying to still his shaking.

"Severus…"

He didn't turn.

"I had no idea."

"You should've had an idea, damn it!" He turned around. Albus was staring at his hands.

"You're right. I should've."

"Did Harry say how long…" Dumbledore began. Severus cut him off.

"I did a medical scan. Quite a while."

"No….she was his blood, Severus….."

"You should've realized by now that that doesn't guarantee anything." His voice was flat now. His righteous anger had surged out of him all at once.

"Where are the boys now?"

"My home."

"You brought Harry there?"

"I couldn't leave him in that muggle's house, could I?" " _Not like you did"_  was the unspoken accusation behind his words.

"You have to believe me, Severus," Dumbledore said, looking up. His blue eyes were watery, and he looked as if he had aged fifty years; every line and wrinkle and his face stood out, clearly defined by the sorrow permeating his expression. "I had no idea."

Severus stared at him. "If you had, would it have made a difference?" he asked softly.

"Of course-"

"It didn't with me."

"Severus-"

"The boys are safe at my home. They will stay there for the foreseeable future."

"That may be for the best," Dumbledore agreed. Severus glared at him, expecting some form of resistance.

"Very well," he snapped. "I don't see what else we have to talk about. I shall be going."

"Wait."

"Yes?"

"I want to talk to him, Severus."

"That will be up to him, I suppose."

"You will ask him?"

Severus nodded.

"Thank you."

Severus left the Hospital Wing without a backwards glance. Whatever he had hoped to gain by coming here, he hadn't found it. He felt empty.

000

Flying had done a wonderful job of distracting Harry from his thoughts. Soaring along the treetops chasing the enchanted golf balls was the best time he'd had in a while; he completely forgot his troubles as the wind ruffled his hair and rushed against his face.

They'd had to land eventually, though, and Harry was decidedly less enthusiastic once he hit the ground.

"Severus should be back soon," Draco said as they were walking back to the house, Harry with his Firebolt slung over his shoulder.

"Yeah," Harry muttered. He didn't want to think about the conversation Snape was having right now, and he definitely didn't want to think about the things Dumbledore was saying.

They made their way inside. Harry dropped his broom off in his room, then took a quick shower. He tried to ignore the anxious feelings squirming around in his stomach, but they kept coming back to him.

He couldn't ignore the fact that he was curious about what Dumbledore was going to say about the situation. Would he say that Snape was wrong for bringing them out of there, that Harry needed to go back? And what if he did have to go back? Uncle Vernon would kill him…

Harry had just finished pulling on some new clothes when he heard the loud crack that signalled apparition. He clenched his hands at his side and walked out of his room. Draco was waiting for him in the kitchen. He didn't know why, but seeing Draco there was somehow reassuring.

Snape came in looking angry.  _Uh oh,_  thought Harry. This couldn't be good.

"I need to speak with Potter," Snape said, staring pointedly at Draco.

"He can stay," Harry said. The words had left his mouth before he could think about them, but he felt that it would be nice not to have to face this alone. Draco gave him an odd look, but Harry didn't meet his eyes.

"Fine," Snape said. Harry was surprised by the lack of resistance.

Snape took a seat at the kitchen table, and Harry and Draco followed.

"To get straight to the point," Severus began, "Dumbledore claimed not to have known what was going on in the Dursley household. I saw no reason to distrust this statement."

"Oh," was all Harry could say. He didn't know if he felt relieved or not.

"However, that is no excuse. The fact remains that he should have properly ensured your safety."

"It's alright," Harry mumbled, looking down at the table.  _Dumbledore hadn't known_. He did feel relieved, after all.

"It is not  _alright_ , Potter," Snape growled. Harry looked up, confused. Why did Snape care?

"You will not be returning there. Ever."

"But the blood wards-"

"There are things more important than blood wards. There are ways to get around them."

Harry couldn't help the small burst of elation he felt at that statement, even if he knew it probably wasn't true. Never having to see the Dursleys again; now that would really be amazing…

"You will remain here for the foreseeable future."

"Here?"

"You heard me, Potter."

There was a slight pause as Severus chose his next words carefully.

"The Headmaster wishes to speak with you."

Harry could only stare.

"I told him that that would be up to you."

"I'll speak to him," Harry said immediately. Severus frowned slightly, but didn't say anything.

"Very well. I will write him and establish a meeting time and place."

"Thank you, sir." Harry meant it for more than just the meeting.


	21. Chapter 21

"I don't know if you should talk to Dumbledore."

"Why not?" Harry asked. He was surprised. Draco hadn't mentioned the conversation with Snape at all yesterday. Today they were outside, pulling up the weeds that clustered around the edges of the yard at Snape's suggestion that they make themselves useful while he went to Diagon Alley to pick up some potions ingredients.

"I don't know, exactly. I just have a bad feeling about it."                   

"That's stupid. Why should you have a bad feeling about Dumbledore?" Harry paused after he said that, considering the fact that Malfoy had probably heard a lot of anti-Dumbledore talk from his parents and the rest of Slytherin house. "I mean, whatever bad things you've heard about him, they're not true."

"That's not it," Draco said, ripping out a weed with extra force. He wasn't sure how to explain to Harry what he was feeling. Listening to Severus's account of his meeting with Dumbledore, Draco had felt uneasy. There still wasn't something right with the fact that Dumbledore hadn't known anything at all about Harry's life with the Dursleys, or the fact that he never sent anyone to properly check on him. He vaguely felt that talking with the man would be harmful to Harry, but he didn't know how or why.

"What is it, then?"

"It's just-" he started. Then he shook his head. "I don't know. Nevermind."

Harry gave him an odd look but didn't push it.

"You know what we should do?" Draco said.

"What?"

"Go flying," Draco said with a grin.

Harry smiled slowly. "Yeah, that would be brilliant. But when's Snape coming back?"

"Not for a few hours, he said." Draco was still annoyed at his godfather; he still hadn't apologized for his stubborn behavior the other day, and Draco thought he seemed a bit colder toward him than usual. It stung, but Draco refused to apologize. He hadn't done anything wrong.

"Let's do it then," Harry said, brushing dirt off his hands. He went inside, and a few minutes later returned with his Firebolt slung over his shoulder. He glanced up at the sky.

"Looks like it's going to rain soon. I'm not sure if we should go," Harry said, biting his lip.

"What's a bit of rain?" Draco said. He had gotten his Nimbus out of the shed. "Scared, Potter?" he added, raising an eyebrow. Harry scowled.

"No, I'm not scared. Let's go." With that, the boys kicked off.

000

Harry wasn't sure why he had agreed when Draco had suggested they fly further than they had before. He guessed that part of the reason was because of the impending meeting with Dumbledore; Snape had commented that he might owl the Headmaster today, and Harry couldn't help but feel nervous at the prospect. Flying always took his mind off things. The rush of the air against his face, the weightless feeling in his stomach, the way his Firebolt turned with the slightest of touches...it all wiped his mind pleasantly blank. Which made going along with Draco's suggestion easy. Until he realized he didn't know where they were.

"You know where we are, right?" Harry called at Draco.

"What?" Draco called back. He hadn't heard him.

Harry repeated his question, raising his voice.

"Of course I know where we are," Draco shouted back. He glanced around them. Trees, that river down there, he had seen them before, right?

"Let's land," he called over to Harry, unsure. Harry followed him as he began his descent. They landed underneath a large tree.

"Malfoy," Harry began, watching as Draco looked around, "You do know where we are, right?" He tried to still the slight stirrings of panic he was beginning to feel. He had followed Draco as they flew, barely paying attention to the twists and turns they were taking, too caught up in the moment.

"Quiet," he snapped at Harry.

"You don't, do you?"

"I said to be quiet, Potter!"

"Fantastic," said Harry. "We're stuck in the woods with no idea where we are."

Malfoy didn't reply.

"It's fine," Malfoy said, turning around. "We're wizards. We can just send Severus a patronus or something."

"We can't use magic outside of school," Harry said flatly. "Didn't you hear about what happened to me last summer?"

"Yes, but I'm not the famous Harry Potter. I doubt the Ministry is watching me that closely. And besides, the ministry trackers detect based on location, not on whose wand is doing the actual magic," Draco sneered, covering up his fear with annoyance. He would simply alert Severus that they had gotten lost and everything would be fine. Well, he might be a little mad at Draco, but he would deal with that when he had to.

"Fine," Harry said. "Although I'm still not sure that's the best idea, just in case. No one's supposed to know we're here."

"Do you have any better ideas?" Draco snarled, spinning around to face Harry.

"I guess not."

"That's what I thought."

"You don't need to snap at me, I'm not the one who brought us out here…."

Draco ignored Harry as he reached into his pocket for his wand.

_No. No. No No No._

He checked the rest of his pockets, turning them inside out. Nothing.

"Do you have your wand, Potter?"

"No. I left it in my room."

Now it was time to panic.

000

A few hours later, darkness was beginning to settle. After a brief shouting match, Harry and Draco had resolutely ignored each other, sitting themselves down beneath different trees and each trying, unsuccessfully, to come up with a plan to get them out of there.

Harry sighed. He stole a glance at Draco; he was sitting beneath his tree, arms crossed, and staring off into the distance.

"We should look for food. Build some kind of shelter," Harry said finally, breaking the stony silence.

` Draco glared at him.

"C'mon. We need to do something at least."

"All right," Draco muttered, getting to his feet.

Harry was surprised that he had agreed, but didn't comment on it. "Okay," he said, "I think our first priority should be to try to build some sort of shelter. Maybe a fire."

Draco stared at him. "Have you gone mad? How're we supposed to do that?"

"I don't think it'll be too hard. And we can get some water from the river."

Draco had fortunately landed right near some type of stream; they could hear it running if they kept quiet.

"We're going to die out here," Draco said. He was only half joking.

"Of course we're not," said Harry quietly. "Now start looking for branches and things we can use to build a shelter. But don't go too far from here."

Draco muttered something Harry couldn't catch, but went along with the plan.

A little while later, Harry thought he had found the perfect place they could sleep. A tree seemed to have fallen down a while ago, and Harry thought if they put a few branches against it, they could make a makeshift kind of tent. And if they could get a fire outside it, everything should work out fine for the night. They could tackle the problem of getting back in the morning, when they had more light and a few hours of sleep.

Draco came back, holding a few small branches. He threw them down near the pile Harry had collected, and Harry told him about the fallen tree he thought could work as their shelter. With prompting, Harry eventually eased Draco into helping him assemble the shelter. Both of them working together, the shelter soon looked passable.

"I think that'll keep us warm!" Harry said, wiping sweat from his brow with a pleased expression. Draco snorted but didn't say anything. He didn't understand what Potter was so pleased about.

"Will it keep wild animals from attacking us as well?"

"Nope," Harry said with a grin. "Now, let's see if we can start a fire."

Harry tried, in vain, to get a fire going while Draco glumly sat beneath a tree, watching.

"Give up yet?"

"I suppose," said Harry, slumping back into a sitting position.

"Severus is going to kill me," Draco said suddenly.

"I'll be sure to go to your funeral," Harry said lightly. When Draco's glum expression didn't change, Harry added, "C'mon, it won't be that bad."

"He's been mental lately."

"He's always seemed mental to me."

Draco cracked a small smile.

"He cares about you, you know," Harry said quietly. "He got us from the Dursleys' because of you."

Draco didn't say anything for a while. "Yeah, I guess so. Things have just been so...tense between us. I'm not used to it." Draco hadn't realized how much this was bothering him until he spoke the words; he blinked back the uncomfortable wetness that had sprung up in his eyes. He was very glad it was getting dark out.

"He's probably just stressed," Harry said. "With getting us from the Dursleys', Voldemort, meeting with Dumbledore..."

When Draco didn't say anything, Harry spoke up again.

"Things got a little tense between me and Sirius last year. He was cooped up in that horrible house

all the time and...he wasn't always pleasant to be around. He even said-" Harry paused, the memory still painful. "He told me I wasn't as similar to my dad as he'd thought. Which hurt, but...he hadn't really meant it, you know? Sometimes people say things they don't mean. It doesn't mean they don't care about you."

Draco had listened carefully to everything Harry said. "Yeah, I suppose you're right. And I know Severus isn't exactly an easy person to get along with, but he's always...looked out for me. And seemed to know what to do. It...scares me that it doesn't seem like that right now." Draco blinked rapidly. He didn't dwell on the fact that he was telling all this to Potter. Something about the semi **-** darkness and the seclusion of the woods made him feel like it was okay to speak.

"I know what you mean," Harry said.

"My father's in Azkaban and my mother's having a mental breakdown," Draco said suddenly, almost desperately. "I…." a pressure seemed to build in his chest, squeezing off his airway, cutting off the words he was going to speak about needing Severus.

"Well, mine are dead," said Harry, "So I think you're still doing a bit better in that area." He laughed. Draco joined in, the tension broken, the laughing spilling out almost hysterically. Both of them laughed for a while.

"Why are you so cheerful about being here, anyway?" Draco asked. He was slightly embarrassed about how emotional he'd been, and wanted to change the subject.

"It's good to be away from Snape's house," Harry said with a grin, "Even if it means we'll die in the woods."

"Ha ha," Draco said.

"It's nice out, anyway," Harry said, stretching himself out on the ground and gazing up at the stars. "I've always liked being outside."

"I guess it is nice out," Draco allowed. He looked up; the stars were startlingly bright.

"We'll figure everything out in the morning," Harry said with a yawn. "I think I'm going to head to the shelter. Get some rest."

"All right."

"Coming?"

"Soon," Draco said. He stayed out for a while, back against the tree trunk, looking at the stars.

000

Severus had returned from Diagon Alley late, laden with Potions ingredients. He had needed the trip, to get out of the house for something other than a meeting with Dumbledore or Voldemort. He had lingered longer than he should have, perhaps, but the solitude had been extremely pleasant. Now he had apparated back to his home.

It was surprisingly quiet. Severus went down to his lab and began putting his new purchases away, restocking jars and vials. He got lost in the calming motions of scooping up crushed beetles and shells, of tying together stalks of knotgrass with magically enhanced string. It was only when he had nearly put everything away that he realized something was off.

It was much too quiet. Had Potter and Draco gone to bed already?

"Potter! Draco!" he called. No response.

He went upstairs, pushing open their bedroom door. Nothing.

He went outside, shouting their name into the empty backyard.

Raw panic filled him.  _Where were they?_

 


	22. Chapter 22

_Stay calm,_ Severus told himself. He wouldn't be able to find the boys if he just panicked. He had to stay collected and rational, something he was normally very good at. But at that moment images of Voldemort capturing the boys filled his head, of them in the middle of a circle of Death Eaters whose wands were raised menacingly,  _Crucios_  on their lips.

_But I would know if that had happened,_  Severus thought.  _My Dark Mark would be burning…._

Where could they be, then? He walked around the house, checking for clues, but nothing seemed to be out of order. Severus then swept outside, holding his wand aloft, the light from a  _Lumos_  spell spilling out of it.

_Think, where would you have gone if you were a teenage boy?_ That was the problem, though, there was nowhere to go around here except the forest, nothing to do really. When Draco visited in the past he sometimes got bored, complaining about the fact there that was nothing to do here except fly around the backyard.

Wait...what if they'd gone flying? Both of the boys had a knack for it, he knew. He'd forbidden Draco from doing it though, as long as Potter was here and their security was so tenuous. Then again, it wasn't like Draco always followed the rules.  _And he is upset with me.._.

Severus reached the shed that housed a few old brooms and his gardening supplies; sure enough, one of the brooms was missing. Just one? Potter probably took his own broom...that would make things more difficult. Severus had placed a tracking spell on his brooms a few summers ago; he hoped it hadn't worn off by now. It would certainly be weaker, but hopefully it would give him some general idea of where the boys were. If only Potter hadn't taken his own broom; two brooms would give him twice as strong of a trace. Well, he would just have to deal with what he did have. He pulled out one of the better brooms from the shed, climbing on it and kicking up a few feet into the air. Severus wasn't an excellent flier, but he was decent. He muttered the counterspell that went along with the trace he had placed on the brooms, and his wand responded by spinning around in his hand and pointing off in the direction where the boys had headed.

_I'm going to kill them_ , Severus thought, flying off in the direction of his wand.

000

Harry woke up early the next morning. It was still dark, the sun just beginning to rise. He straightened his glasses, which were still on his face and digging uncomfortably into his skin. He sat up, stretching his sore muscles as he did so. He crawled out of the shelter, straightening up as he went outside. He spotted Draco a few feet away, propped up slightly against the tree trunk he had been sitting near the night before. He was asleep now, his head drooping down against his shoulder.

Harry decided he should let him keep sleeping; a few more hours wasn't going to drastically alter their situation, after all. Maybe he'd even be able to come up with a plan to get them out of here before Draco woke up.

Harry realized suddenly how hungry he was; when was the last time he'd eaten? It must've been ages ago, lunch at Snape's before they went flying. Maybe he could find something to eat here, some berries or something.

He spent the next few hours scavenging the surrounding area, but he didn't have much luck. While he'd spent a few nights outside, locked out occasionally by the Dursleys when he did something particularly bad in their book, he'd never spent time in the woods. The Dursleys had gone camping with Dudley once or twice, but he'd always been sent off to Mrs. Figg's for those outings. Maybe he and Draco were in more trouble than he'd thought.

Slightly down, Harry made his way back toward where the shelter was. Draco was awake when he got back.

"Morning," Harry said, sitting down against a tree next to Draco.

"Morning," Draco muttered back. By now, the sun had risen completely.

"Any ideas of how we can get out of here?" Harry asked. Draco shrugged.

"Not really. Besides trying to fly back."

"We were flying for hours, though. How would we know if we're going the right way…?"

"I don't know. But I don't see what else we can do."

"I suppose you're right," Harry said with a sigh. Absentmindedly, he picked up a rock from the ground and tossed it up into the air, catching it in his palm.

Suddenly, both boys heard a loud  _crack_.

"What was that?" Draco asked, scrambling to his feet.

"I don't know…" said Harry, standing up as well.

"Do you think it's an animal?"

"Maybe," Harry said. He turned his head to listen better. After a brief pause, the sound of twigs snapping resumed.

"What is it?" Draco asked. He had gone pale.

"No clue. But maybe we should-"

" _Maybe_  you should have stayed at my home like you were instructed to." It was Snape's voice, quiet and silky. Both boys jumped as Snape stepped out of the shadows of the forest and into their little clearing.

"Do you realize how easy you would have been to capture? If that were the Dark Lord instead of me, you'd both be dead already."

Draco and Harry remained silent; they both knew Snape was right. Harry glanced at Draco. He was looking down at the ground, his face flushed slightly. Harry wondered if this was the first time he'd ever seen the Slytherin genuinely sorry about something.

"Do you have anything to say for yourself?" Snape was glaring directly at Draco. Harry found it odd that he wasn't on the receiving end of this tirade, when usually Snape looked for any excuse to berate and belittle him.

"I-" Draco began, but Harry cut him off.

"It was my idea." He didn't know why he'd said it; it wasn't like it was true. This had been Draco's idea. But he'd gone along with it, hadn't he? Something about Draco's confession last night about his relationship with Snape stirred Harry to speak up, to try to mitigate the damage. It wasn't like his relationship with the man would ever be great, so what did he have to lose?

Draco and Snape both stared at him. Snape broke the silence first.

"Do not lie to me, Potter."

"I'm not-"

"Silence. I will deal with this when we get home. Fortunately for you, I remember how to get back there."

Harry and Draco glanced guiltily at each other during this speech.

"Get your brooms. Quickly," Snape said. As they hurried to do so, Snape glanced around at the little shelter they had built for themselves. It wasn't bad, but it looked like they hadn't built a fire.

"Have you eaten anything?" Snape asked when the boys had returned with their broomsticks. They shook their heads.

Snape refrained from sighing. They had a long fly ahead of them, and if neither of the boys had eaten in nearly a day, they wouldn't hold up well.

"I will prepare some food so you will be up to the task of flying."

"Thanks," Draco muttered.

"As you know, wizards cannot simply create food from nothing. However, there are several edible plants, roots, and berries in these woods. I have gathered some of them before for potions ingredients," Snape said, walking over to a thicket of plants nearby.

"Pay attention," he called to Harry and Draco. He spent the next half hour identifying and preparing the nearest edible plants, and pointing out which ones were poisonous or inedible. Once they had finished their meal (Draco refrained from making any snide comments about eating roots, something he normally would have treated with disdain), they followed Snape's lead as he led them out of the forest.

Harry and Draco didn't say anything as they flew along behind Snape; the journey was tense and windy, Snape occasionally barking out warnings or instructions when they changed directions or turned.

They had been flying for almost an hour when Snape called for them to land.

_What?_  Thought Harry. There was no way they were back yet; he and Draco had been flying for almost three hours before they landed...

Harry and Draco landed back in the woods beside Snape.

"What's going on?" Harry asked immediately. Draco was still quieter than usual, but he looked at Snape with confusion.

"My Dark Mark," Snape said. It took a moment before that sank in for Harry.

"Your Dark Mark?" he repeated.

"Yes, Potter, that's what I said," Snape said, but without his usual bite. He was trying to think. He hadn't foreseen this happening, and he didn't have a plan.  _Think._

"I have to go."

"But-"

"There is no getting around the summons," Snape muttered. It was true. The consequences for ignoring the call of the Dark Mark were severe. But it was odd that this was happening in the middle of the day, when normally the call came at night. He hoped something hadn't gone wrong. He hoped...no, there was no way he could know about Potter, was there?

"What if it's something to do with me?" Harry said quietly. He felt sick.

"Then it will be dealt with."

"But-" Harry bit his lip. He couldn't come up with anything to say, any solution to this problem.

"You and Draco will stay here. Do not attempt to fly back to the house." Snape's mind was working fast; if the Dark Lord knew that Harry wasn't at the Dursleys', there was the slight chance that he might have figured out he was staying at Snape's, perhaps having him tailed...even though the chance was improbable, it would probably be better for them to stay here. Snape might have the chance to send them a Patronus if something went wrong, and then they could fly away….they would have more of a head start on the Death Eaters here than they would at Snape's house. And if, as he believed, this was about something else, he could simply track the boys back down. Yes, this was the best course of action.

"If everything goes well, I will fly back here and get you. If you have not heard from me by night, be prepared to escape."

"Escape where?" Harry asked.

"The nearest wizarding town is about a day's fly southwest of here."

Harry nodded.

"Very well," Snape turned toward his godson, opening his mouth to speak, when Draco rushed into his arms and hugged him. Severus blinked, surprised, but gruffly returned the gesture.

"I plan on everything being fine," he said bracingly.

"I'm sorry, Severus," Draco muttered into his chest.

"It's alright, Draco," Snape said, quietly. When Draco pulled away, Severus spoke again.

"I will see you soon," he said, before nodding at them both and apparating with a sharp crack.


	23. Chapter 23

Draco stood rooted to the ground, staring at the spot where Snape had just vanished. He couldn't believe what had just happened. Did the Dark Mark normally burn so often? This was the second time Snape had been summoned to Voldemort in the time Draco had been with him this summer. He hoped fervently that nothing was wrong, that this was all routine.  _What if it's not_..., he thought, unable to suppress the panic he felt at the thought. Suppose there was something seriously wrong, and he and Harry were stranded in the middle of the woods, wandless, because he'd thought it would be a good idea to go flying?

"Malfoy?" Harry asked tentatively, after watching Draco staring into space for a few minutes. Draco didn't respond, but turned around to face Harry, who didn't miss the sick look on his face.

Harry was also feeling slightly ill; he couldn't believe how stupid he and Draco had been. However, he pushed the negative thoughts that were starting to threaten to the outskirts of his mind. He couldn't focus on that right now, or he might do something stupid.  _And I've already done enough of that…_

"Are you-listen, everything will be fine," said Harry, ignoring the crushing feeling in his chest. Malfoy only nodded in reply, then turned his back to Harry once again.

Sighing, Harry slid down and sat against the back of a nearby tree. It was going to be a long wait until nightfall.

000

Snape had had to make his decision within a few seconds of feeling the burn of the Mark upon his arm. As he apparated into the point designated by the Dark Lord, he hoped he had made the right choice. If he hadn't, the results could be fatal.

Severus had accounted for the worst case scenario in his decision: that Voldemort knew that Harry and Draco were staying with him, that he knew where his house was, that he had been tracking their activity and decided now was the moment to pounce. If that were the case, he couldn't afford to risk sending Harry and Draco back to his home, where Death Eaters might lay in wait. If that happened, he would someone have to slip away without being killed and send the boys a patronus, giving them instructions on how to get to the nearest wizarding town without wands.

Severus could do nothing except wish, silently and furiously, that this summoning was about something else. There was also the possibility that Voldemort had discovered that had discovered that Potter was missing, but didn't know that Severus was involved. Or that he had discovered Severus had been the one who had rescued Lupin from the werewolves last week, revealing his spy status. Or that Dumbledore had also been injured in the attack, and Snape had failed to tell Voldemort...

_Get a grip_ , Severus told himself firmly. It was useless to run through these possibilities. He had to see what he was really facing here, and respond accordingly.

He looked around at his new surroundings. Death Eaters were apparating every few seconds, forming the wide circle that their master would soon inhabit. They stood outside a large manor house; Severus assumed it belonged to one of the richer Death Eaters. The Dark Lord sometimes did this, choosing the homes of his Death Eaters as the places for his meetings. The Death Eaters were honored when the task was assigned to them, and often gloated amongst themselves when they were chosen.

Now, Severus took his spot in the circle, keeping his expression blank beneath the mask he had conjured for himself. The Death Eaters waited for perhaps fifteen minutes before Voldemort apparated into the center of the circle.

Murmurs of "My Lord" erupted from all sides, accompanied by bowing. Voldemort raised a single, skeletal hand, silencing them at once.

"I'm sure," Voldemort hissed, "you are all wondering why I have summoned you here." After a look around the circle, Voldemort continued.

"I have news of Harry Potter."

Severus stayed completely still. Everyone seemed to be holding their breath, the silence weighing down on them all.

Voldemort smiled, slowly, the grin twisting his face horribly. His red eyes danced with mirth as he let out a small laugh.

"You are all worried it is bad news, no doubt?" Voldemort stared around the circle. "It is not."

Renewed murmurs broke out at this pronouncement, rippling through the group with a rustling like wind.

"Potter is no longer at his relatives' home."

The sound of the murmurs rose; Severus felt as if he had gone temporarily deaf to them.

"But surely he is at Hogwarts, My Lord?" came a timid voice. Voldemort smiled again, allowing the indulgence of being spoken to by a follower.

"Oh, no," Voldemort practically purred. "That is why the news is especially...ah, thrilling."

The interest in the circle was palpable; people shifted from foot to foot, twitched their robes, and stared, some hungrily, at Voldemort.

"Severus can confirm that," Voldemort said, and the eyes all swung toward him.

Snape had been wondering when he would make it into the conversation. The question was, was Voldemort sincerely asking him for reassurance? Or did he know that he had been the one to remove Potter from the Dursleys in the first place?

"That is correct, My Lord," Severus said. "Potter is not at the castle."

Voldemort's red eyes bored into Severus's. He met the gaze unflinchingly. Finally, Voldemort smiled again, and Severus could see the joy leaping in those red eyes.

"Yes," he said softly. "As I thought."

Severus waited for what would come next; he watched as Voldemort toyed with his wand, almost lovingly, waited for him to strike the fatal blow…

"It seems that Potter has run off from his relatives' home," Voldemort finally said. "Without Dumbledore's knowledge."

"You may wonder how I can be certain of this; it is enough to say that I have had sources tailing the area surrounding the boy's house, and that his absence has been noted. The Dark Lord always has his ways."

A buzzing of assent greeted these words as the Death Eaters mumbled together.

"Now, it is rare that we have presented with such an...opportunity. I will require all of you to devote you assistance to the matter. Beginning immediately. I do not want Potter to slip through my fingers yet again."

He surveyed them all for a few more moments.

"I will be assigning each of you different tasks. Some of you will stake out the area near Potter's home, in case he chooses to return; others of you will be sent to London, where we believe the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix to be located, although we cannot know precisely where. Others of you will settle within Hogsmeade, in case the Potter boy tries to reenter the castle. Still others of you will not search for the boy directly, but assist me in other ways."

Voldemort spent the next few hours carefully detailing every aspect of his plan to them; it involved a complicated coordinate system, hourly shifts, and the incantations they were allowed to use against Potter should they find him.

Severus felt the hours bleeding away as sharply as if he had been cut; each hour that passed was another hour that Harry and Draco wasted in the woods, each hour that passed drew them closer to nightfall and Severus's own instruction that they head, not for the safety of his home, but out into the open, where any of these Death Eaters could find them. He could only hope that Voldemort would finish soon; he assumed he would be sent to Hogwarts, and, while there, he could find some way to contact the boys or bring them to safety himself.

After these slow, painful hours, Voldemort finally declared that they were prepared to begin the plan. He called out names, dividing people into their groups, and as he spoke they apparated at once. Severus watched the throng thinning around him, waiting for his turn to leave, when he would finally be able to steal away and help the boys.

As Voldemort announced the names heading off to Hogsmeade, Severus automatically took a small step forward. He thought he had misheard when Voldemort didn't call his name.

"My Lord?" he asked, when the last of the Death Eaters had departed for Hogsmeade.

"Oh, no, Severus, you will be staying with me. I have a different task for you."

Severus smiled and said he was pleased to be of assistance, but inside his mind had gone blank.

He might have unwittingly left Draco and Potter to their deaths.

000

Several long, tense hours passed in silence. Draco and Harry didn't have much to say to each other; both were wrapped up in their own thoughts, waiting on edge for any message from Snape to appear. Darkness had begun to slowly leak into the sky before Harry spoke.

"I think we're going to have to get out of here."

Draco looked up at him. "It's not night yet. Severus could still contact us."

Harry stared at him. "Come on. It's getting dark out."

"No!" Malfoy stood up suddenly. Harry noticed that his hands were shaking.

"All right," said Harry quietly, turning his gaze away from Draco and back towards the ground. "Another hour, then."

This hour crawled by just as slowly as all the others had. Finally, Draco could put it off no longer.

"Okay," he said, softly. "We should go."

Harry nodded, standing up and brushing dirt off his clothes. "Right."

They stood there, staring at each other.

"Should we fly?" Harry asked.

"I guess," Draco answered. "But it'll be hard to know where we're going, when it's so dark like this…"

Harry bit back his retort that if they had left earlier, like he had suggested, that wouldn't have been a problem.

"Yeah," he said, squinting at the trees around them. "But we can't just stay here, can we?"

"No," Draco said quietly. "But- how will we know we're going the right way? Without a Point-Me spell?"

"Huh," said Harry. That was a fair point. Snape had told them there was a wizarding town southwest of here, but were they supposed to know which way was southwest?

"I think we should just fly until we reach some type of town," Harry said finally. "Then we could figure out some way to get somewhere safe, even if we couldn't contact anyone yet."

"That sounds- I guess that's a good idea."

"Okay," said Harry, feeling better now that they had a plan. "I don't think we'll be able to reach anywhere far tonight, so maybe we could just put a few miles between us and here, and try and get a couple hours sleep?"

Draco nodded. Harry was a little worried about his listlessness, but he couldn't dwell on it now. He picked up his broom, and kicked off, assuming Draco was doing the same behind him.

"This way then," Harry said, pushing his glasses up his nose and pointing in the opposite direction. Draco flew up beside him and they set off.

000

After a few hours, Harry touched back down, satisfied that they had at least moved. This stretch of woods they were in was basically the same as the one they had left, but it didn't matter to him; the physical action of flying had quelled some of his anxiety.

It didn't look as though the same were true for Draco; if anything, he seemed even worse off than before. He touched down onto the ground with the same sick expression on his face as before, and didn't say anything to Harry.

"This look all right?" Harry asked. Draco nodded.

"Listen, Malfoy-"

"I don't wanna hear it, all right?"

"I was just going to say-"

"I said I don't want to hear it," he said, his voice breaking at the end. He turned away from Harry and sat down a few yards away from him. Harry sighed. If Malfoy didn't want to talk, he couldn't force him. He would just have to try again tomorrow.

Harry found his own patch of ground to lie down on and tried to make himself as comfortable as possible. He managed to drift off to sleep almost at once, exhausted as he was. As he did so, he missed the sounds of the low, almost silent sobs from a few feet away.

A/N: Hello everyone! I apologize for my long absence, but unfortunately my laptop has been broken for the past few months! I have a new one now so I should be posting regularly. I hope you all enjoyed the chapter, and as always I love reading your comments :)

 


	24. Chapter 24

Draco sat up as soon as the sun's first feeble rays began to filter through the leaves overhead, surveying the patch of woods they had slept in by the dim morning light. Potter was a few feet away, his glasses, which were now perched crookedly over his nose, still on his face. He, at least, seemed to have been able to sleep. Draco had not had the same luck; he thought he was lucky if he had managed two hours between all the tossing and turning.

He got to his feet, brushing off the layer of dirt and twigs that clung to his muggle clothing with a look of distaste on his face. His mouth twisted into a bitter smile at the thought of his parents' reaction to their only son and heir sleeping in the woods, on the run from the Death Eaters they had called their friends. With no less than Harry Potter himself keeping him company.

The thought of his family had been one of the things keeping him up all night, staring blankly at the leaves rustling overhead and the stars peeking through them. If the Dark Lord caught him with Potter, there was no telling what he would do to him, but as if that thought wasn't bad enough, there was no telling what he would do to his family if he managed to get his hands on them. It was a thought that had haunted him all summer, really, ever since he had agreed for he and his mother to accept the Order's help and go into hiding under their protection. Now, however, the dangers of accepting that help were overwhelmingly clear, and he had felt the weight of their pressure ever since Severus had apparated.

Running his hands through his hair, Draco watched for a few more minutes as light continued to seep into the forest. Then, pulling himself out of these thoughts with a scowl, he walked over to where Potter was still sleeping.

"Get up," Draco said loudly. Potter groaned, rolling onto to his back before sitting up and straightening his glasses.

"Morning to you too," said Harry, yawning as he stood up.

Draco continued to scowl as Harry surveyed their surroundings.

"So," he said, turning back toward Draco, "you think we should just keep flying until we find some sort of town?"

"Yes, brilliant plan Potter, I've no idea what I'd do without you," Draco snapped, before stalking over to where their brooms stood, leaning against a tree.

Harry watched him, thinking it was good to have the old Malfoy back.

000

They had flown for a few hours with nothing but a continuous view of trees before Harry spotted buildings in the distance.

"There!" he gasped.

"I can see, yes," Malfoy said moodily, though he viewed the approaching town with unmasked interest.

"Wait," Harry said. "We should stop."

"What? Why?"

"There are things we need to talk about before we go prancing off into a possibly muggle town!" Harry said, voice raised. Malfoy had no choice but to follow him as he dove back down toward the ground.

"Well?"

"We need to think this out, Malfoy!" Harry snapped back at Draco's nasty tone.

Malfoy crossed his arms, a sour look on his face, but didn't say anything else.

"Right," said Harry, letting out a long breath. "Since neither of us know if we've flown in the right direction of that wizarding village Snape mentioned, I think it's best to assume we're heading toward a muggle town. Agreed?"

Draco nodded.

"So we need to think about how we're going to do this. We can't...we can't go flying in there. I think we might need to make the last few miles on foot."

"On  _foot_?" Draco repeated, looking vaguely sickened.

"Do you have a better suggestion? If Voldemort's-"

"Don't say that name!" Draco snarled, after jumping about a foot in the air.

"Why? It's not like he can hear us."

Draco did not respond. Both boys glared at each other for a few moments before Harry looked away.

Clenching his jaw, Harry began again. "Okay. If You-Know-Who knows that I'm missing from my relatives', and he knows you're with me, he's bound to have Death Eaters out looking for us. So I think we need to keep as low a profile as possible."

"So we pretend to be muggles?"

Harry nodded.

"And how do we do that, and manage to get…" Draco trailed off midsentence, realizing, with a fresh wave of horror, that he had no idea where they were even trying to go.

"And then there's that," sighed Harry, picking up where Draco had left off. "Where we're going to go."

They stared at each other again, all anger left behind. Harry recognized the fear clearly etched into Malfoy's pale, pointed face.

"Do you have any ideas?" he asked Harry.

He nodded. "A few. I don't...I don't like them that much though."

"Why not?"

"They'll be difficult. Dangerous." He paused. "I was wondering...you don't have any idea where the Order was hiding your mother?"

Draco shook his head slightly, turning away. "No idea. They didn't tell us where the other was going."

Harry was disappointed, but not surprised. "Okay. Well, I've been thinking. There's a couple of places we could go."

Draco listened with interest, surprised; he hadn't thought of anywhere to go at all, too consumed with worry.

"Okay, this is assuming we can't go back to Snape's." Harry began, looking, Draco noticed, more nervous than he had since stopping.

"I'm listening."

"Well, first, there's Hogwarts." Draco opened his mouth to reply, and Harry cut in again. "Which, obviously, would be difficult. It's so far away, and Vol- You-Know-Who is bound to be tailing the area."

"He'd see us coming from miles away."

Harry nodded. "So-there's Order headquarters. In London."

"Great," said Draco. "Why don't we go there?"

"Did-did Dumbledore tell you the location before you came to stay with me?" Harry was looking at him tentatively, eyebrows raised.

"No," said Draco flatly. "He didn't."

Harry let off a stream of swears under his breath, turning around and walking a few paces. Without the Secret-Keeper revealing its location, there was no way Draco could enter Grimmauld Place. He came back, a grim look of resignation on his face.

"Okay. Okay," he paused, bracing himself. "We could go back to the Dursleys'."

Draco stared at him blankly. "Back...to the Dursleys'? Don't you think he'll have people waiting there, Potter?"

"Yes," Harry muttered. "But once we're there it would be safe."

"So we just have to get past the horde of murderous Death Eaters and then somehow back into the good graces of your nearly murderous relatives. Sounds brilliant."

"D'you have a better idea?" Harry snapped back. "You think I want to go back there?"

Draco thought about it. Harry's mention of the Order headquarters had sparked something in his mind. "Yes," he said. "Why not try to get to some other Order member's house?"

Harry considered the idea. "That would work," he admitted. "But I don't really know where any Order members live, apart from Headquarters."

"None of them?" Draco repeated in disbelief. He knew the locations of at least half a dozen Death Eaters' homes, although he doubted he would ever be welcome back to any of them.

"No," Harry repeated. "Besides the Weasleys', and we're not-"

"The Weasleys'," Draco said. "That's an idea. Why not go there?"

"No way," said Harry, clenching his jaw once again. "No way am I putting them in danger."

"They're bound to be in danger if the Chosen One manages to get himself killed," Malfoy shot back.

Harry shook his head again. "Drop it," he said.

Seeing the look on Harry's face, Draco did, but he hadn't forgotten the matter.

000

Severus had not left the Dark Lord's side since last night. For all his talk of trusting in him, Severus mused, Voldemort certainly wasn't a fool; he was keeping Snape right where he could see him.

His new, special job for the task of finding Potter had included helping Voldemort manage the status reports from the Death Eaters, shooting off Patronus messages to them, and discussing the possibilities of Potter returning to Hogwarts.

"If he somehow manages to slip through into the castle," Voldemort now mused, petting Nagini, "I'll have you go retrieve him."

"Of course, My Lord," Severus muttered, looking up from the documents he had been poring over toward the towering figure of Voldemort, staring out the window of the Death Eater's mansion they were staying at.

"Until then, however," he hissed, "I think it best that no word of it reaches Dumbledore."

"Certainly," Severus responded, pausing. "Although, My Lord, have you considered that he has-become aware of the situation?"

Severus chose his words carefully; he knew that Voldemort regarded him in some high esteem, and allowed him to pose questions, but he must not show any sign of disrespect.

"Of course, I have considered it Severus. But if he leaves the castle, my watches in Hogsmeade shall alert us, and then we can...handle that." He spoke delicately, his s's long hisses.

Severus muttered his assent before returning back to his work; he hoped, yet again, that the Dark Lord would trust him with some task that would allow him to leave his surveillance and send a message to the boys. They hadn't been caught yet, though, which was something.

"Did Yaxley send word?" Voldemort asked.

"Yes, My Lord," Severus responded, searching for the parchment where he had logged in all the Death Eater's reports. "Half an hour ago."

Voldemort nodded, stroking Nagini. Severus turned his eyes back toward the parchment, willing Potter and Draco to get themselves somewhere safe.

000

Harry and Draco had ironed out the rest of their plan: they would walk until they reached the nearby town, safely stow their broomsticks in the woods, and then try to scout out where they were and how to get back to the Dursleys'. Well, so Harry believed; Draco still felt that going to the Weasleys' would be the less expected and less dangerous course of action, and he hadn't given up hope of persuading Potter of that. For now, though, he kept his mouth shut.

Draco, ever a Malfoy, had had a small quantity of gold left in his pockets. Harry had reasoned that, despite the fact that it was wizarding money, they should still be able to exchange it for food and transportation.

"Almost there," said Harry, panting slightly. He stopped, surveying the edge of the town through the thin strand of trees at the edge of the forest.

"So, we'll just do as we planned," Harry said, his confident tone unable to conceal the flicker of nervousness underneath it.

Draco nodded. "See anywhere to store our brooms?" Harry had suggested that they store the brooms here while they looked for a grocery store and train station, and that they return here at nightfall to retrieve them (and sleep in the woods, away from any potential prying eyes).

"Er-there?" asked Draco, pointing toward a small, toppled tree.

Harry nodded, and they stowed them next to the fallen tree. Harry straightened up and wiped the sweat from his face.

"Ready?"

Draco nodded, and together they walked into the muggle town.

000

Walking back toward the woods that evening, Harry thought that things hadn't gone as badly as he'd expected. Even persuading the muggle grocery store owner to let them exchange galleons for food hadn't been that hard, once he'd realized they were indeed solid gold. They had also found the train station in the center of the town, and Harry had scanned tomorrow's schedules until he found a route that would take them back toward Privet Drive; if he was reading them correctly, they would have to make a transfer, but maybe that was for the best; it would make it harder for Death Eaters to tail them.

Now, Harry clutched a few bags containing the day's purchases, scowling slightly at the one that Draco had persuaded him to buy. He shot a quick glance at Draco, who seemed to be much calmer than he had last night; apparently, going two days without being captured by the Death Eaters had boosted his confidence.

They approached the edge of the trees, quickly looking around to make sure they weren't being watched; they then ducked back into the woods, walking back toward the place they had stowed their brooms.

"Let's eat," Draco said as soon as they reached the place, and Harry handed over the grocery bag; they had already eaten a decent portion of it, famished as they had been, but had made sure there was some left. Harry settled down on the ground, drawing his arms around his knees and peering into the gathering gloom.

Draco nearly moaned around his mouthful of food, closing his eyes. Harry shot him a disgusted look.

"Don't look at me like that," Draco said when he opened his eyes, rooting around in the bag. "I've noticed that the more time I spend with you, the more time I spend starving."

"Ha, ha," Harry said dryly, grabbing some bread and taking a bite. They ate in silence for a while, until all their dinner food was nearly gone.

"Well," said Draco, grinning, "I think it's time we put our disguises in place, what do you say?"

Harry scowled but agreed.

Draco had had a moment of inspiration in the muggle market, when they had crossed the beauty aisle.

"Don't you think we should disguise ourselves?" he had asked.

"What?"

Draco had gestured toward the shelf where boxes of hair dye stood stacked. "In case the Death Eaters are looking for us on broomstick-if we had different colored hair, it'd throw them off, right?"

And so Harry had reluctantly agreed, grabbing a few boxes of dye and bleach. He had the distinct impression that Malfoy rather enjoyed his discomfort at the idea.

"Ladies first," Malfoy said now, picking up the bottle of bleach and shaking it at Harry.

Half an hour later, Harry had rinsed off the bleach with water from one of the water bottles they had purchased. At the sight of him, Malfoy burst into laughter.

"Shove off," Harry muttered. "We'll see how you like it." Harry fingered his own hair, which felt dry and brittle; Malfoy assured him that it was a ridiculous yellow-orange color.

Harry picked up another bottle of dye. "Your turn."

When Malfoy rinsed off his dye, Harry burst into his own stream of laughter; Malfoy's hair was bright red. He could've been a Weasley twin, which Harry told him between laughs.

"Where do they live, by the way?" Malfoy asked in a would-be casual voice.

"Near Devon, I think," Harry responded automatically, before narrowing his eyes. "I told you we're not going there."

"Suit yourself," said Draco, tentatively touching his damp, newly dyed hair.  _We'll see_ , he thought privately.

"Any more chocolate left?" he said, smoothly changing the subject.

Harry tossed him the pack, which hit Draco in the ear.

"Oops."

Both boys were unable to stop the laughter from spilling out of their mouths, taking with it some of the pent up stress of the past few days.

 


	25. Chapter 25

                Harry and Draco met the morning with a much more subdued attitude than they had possessed the previous night; all their attempts at lightening the mood lay behind them as they contemplated the enormity of the task before them. Harry thought it would be a miracle if they managed to get back to Privet Drive without encountering any Death Eaters. And what would they do if they were caught? Neither of them had a wand; their only slim protection lay in their broomsticks. Compared with the might of Voldemort’s army of Death Eaters, it was laughable.

                But Harry had thought these things before; he had faced Voldemort at eleven, at twelve, at fourteen, and fifteen, and come out on top each time. The only thing he had to rely on in all these situations had been his own determination and nerve, when it came down to it. Now, however, there was the unknown factor of Draco Malfoy. Would he be able to rely on Draco if things took a turn for the worse? _No,_ said a small, vicious voice in the back of his mind. _Draco’s always hated you, he would turn you in in a second if it meant saving himself…he’s a Slytherin, he’ll only drag you down…._

Harry firmly pushed these thoughts away. He didn’t have the option of believing that small voice: it was either put some trust in Draco or nothing. He contemplated these things clinically, trying to detach himself from the feelings of fear and doubt he could not afford to indulge in.

                “Ready?” Harry asked a few minutes later, after they had eaten some of the food from last night. He picked up his broom and slung it over his shoulder. Despite the obvious eyebrows their carrying brooms would raise, Draco and Harry had both agreed that they could not risk leaving them behind.

                Draco nodded. They walked in silence for a few minutes before Draco spoke.

                “Potter,” he said, stopping. “I really think you should reconsider this.”

                “Reconsider what?” said Harry, unsure what Draco was talking about.

                “Going to your relatives’ house.”

                Harry stared at him for a few seconds. “No.”

                “Potter, you don’t have to be so—“

                “So what? If we go to the Weasleys’, there’s a risk of Death Eaters hurting them,” snapped Harry.

                “You’re just—you don’t have to act the hero all the time,” Draco snapped back, his frustration peaking; why was Potter condemning them to more difficult a situation than was absolutely necessary?

                He was completely unprepared for what happened next; Potter shoved him into a nearby tree, gripping his arms tightly. His broomstick dropped to the ground with a thud.

                “What the hell was that for!” Draco shouted, struggling against Harry’s grip; his eyes were locked with Draco’s, sparking with rage.

                “Shut up,” Harry said quietly. “Just shut up.”

                Draco blinked; Potter’s voice was rough, but quiet and shaky. _What was going on?_

“Fine. Forget I mentioned it,” said Draco, eyes wide. Harry slowly released him, then started walking away.

                Harry turned away quickly to hide his face. He felt ashamed for how he had just reacted, but when Malfoy had accused him of playing the hero, he had immediately thought of Hermione telling him exactly the same thing before he rushed off to the Ministry. Images of Sirius falling through the veil flashed across his mind. _Stop_ , he thought. _Just stop_.

                He didn’t notice that Draco had joined his side again; he also didn’t notice that he was watching him carefully, trying to analyze him. Draco had seen Harry behaving like this before, it was true, but it hadn’t happened in a while; what had he done or said that could have provoked that type of reaction, when Harry had kept his temper mostly under control for the entirety of their highly stressful trip?

                Draco didn’t have much time to think about this, though. Soon they had exited the canopy of the trees; they started making their way toward the train station in tense silence, Harry resolutely not looking at Malfoy the entire way there.

                Once they had reached the station, Harry cast a furtive glance around them, flattening his newly blonde fringe over the scar on his forehead. He then ducked into the doorway, Draco behind him.

                “Give me the gold,” Harry muttered, and Draco handed over some coins. Harry went to pay for their tickets, much more used to interacting with muggles than Draco was; Draco watched as he persuaded the man behind the ticket desk to take the unusual coins, assuring him that they were solid gold. He returned a few minutes later holding the tickets and shoved one into Malfoy’s hand.

                “C’mon,” he muttered, glancing around them once again. Harry surprised Draco once again by grabbing his arm and pulling him down an empty corridor on their way to their platform. Draco eyed him warily.

                “We need to talk,” Harry said, eyes sweeping around them.

                “I said to forget I mentioned it—“ Draco began, but Harry cut him off.

                “Not that. About our plan.”

                “Oh,” said Draco. He glanced over his shoulder. “What part of it?”

                “About what we’re going to do once we get off the train.” Harry’s voice was so low that Draco had to lean closer to hear it.

                “Right,” said Draco. “We’ll have to figure out a way to get to your aunt and uncle’s from the station.”

                Harry nodded. “I think our best bet is going with muggle transportation as far as we can. Voldemort doesn’t set much store by muggle methods, so it’s less likely he’ll be expecting that.”

                Draco nodded, once again impressed with Harry’s planning skills; in light of the recent argument, he ignored his use of Voldemort’s name.

                “But,” he continued, “there’s a chance we might have to make a break for it and fly. So just keep your broom close.”

                “Right,” Draco said. “Let’s get going, shall we?”

000

                If the past few days had been tense, they were nothing compared to the train ride. Harry and Draco sat in their compartment as still as statues, one of them getting up to glance up and down the hallway every few minutes. The day outside was gray and cloudy, and about an hour into their trip it started to rain, depriving them of the chance to look out the windows and scan the sky for approaching Death Eaters. They barely spoke, communicating in nods and grunts when necessary; when the time came to transfer trains, Harry’s head swiveled around so often that Draco thought he was beginning to look like an owl. A few people threw odd glances at their broomsticks, but nobody commented; Harry had told him to tell anyone who asked that he was a janitor, but no one spoke to him about it.

                The train they transferred to was smaller than the first. They slid into their sits quietly, glancing at the people around them, but nobody paid them much notice. The hour and a half ride passed almost as slowly as the two hour one before it had; here they could not stand up every few minutes to check around them without attracting unwanted attention, so they had to settle for stealing glances whenever they could. When the train finally shuddered to a halt, the boys looked at each other.  Harry inclined his head and Draco nodded.

                They exited the train into the small Surrey station, walking quickly until they came to a deserted spot. Both of them looked around, but they appeared to be alone. Harry let out a long breath.

                “Okay,” he muttered. “There’s a bus we should be able to take from here. It’ll get us near the house, but there’s some walking we’ll have to do.”

                Draco nodded, looking up and scanning the sky for any signs of broomsticks

000

                After a miserable bus ride, Harry and Draco stood at the side of the road, momentarily sheltered beneath the bus stop station.

                “You know where you’re going?”

                Harry nodded.

                “Follow me.”

                It was still raining; within minutes they were soaked. Neither of them complained.

000

                They had been walking for nearly an hour when it happened.

                Draco looked up in one of his regular glances, scanning the gray sky above him. There—what had that been? He thought he’d seen a flash of something dark against the sky, but it had already disappeared. He shifted his broomstick between his shoulders uncomfortably. Perhaps it had been a drifting cloud.

                “Are we close?” Draco asked, picking up his pace a bit and looking up again.

                “Yeah,” Harry said quietly. “Should only be a half hour now. Maybe twenty minutes.”

                Harry had just finished speaking when Draco shouted. Above them flew five Death Eaters, cloaked in black robes and pulling out their wands.

                “GO!” Harry screamed, mounting his own broom and kicking off. Draco didn’t need telling twice. He shot up into the air and flew next to Harry, dodging a red jet of light that had just shot out of one of the Death Eater’s wands. They sped off, weaving back and forth to make themselves harder targets.

                Panic seemed to have completely enveloped Draco. He was not a person anymore, just a numb bundle of nerves sitting on a broomstick. He followed Harry’s lead, keeping his head low and squinting through the rain for some glimmer of Privet Drive. He wasn’t sure how long he had been flying, with curses whizzing past his ears and over the top of his head every few seconds; it could have been minutes or hours. He had ceased all rational thought; it had been replaced with the blind, groping fear, and the repetition of the words _keep flying, keep flying_.

                He swerved around a tree, one of its branches whipping the side of his face; he barely felt its sting. A curse smashed into the tree trunk, gouging out a chunk of wood. _Keep flying_.

                “We’re almost there!” Harry screamed to Draco. Draco pressed lower to his broom, unable to respond, the sound of the roaring wind and whipping rain a dull, static buzz to his shocked ears. Harry glanced over his shoulder and dove, and Draco followed him, swerving whenever Harry did. _Keep flying._

                Suddenly, a Death Eater appeared beside Harry and Draco, and several things happened at once.

                The deathly gleam of the Death Eater’s mask swam before Draco’s eyes. The Death Eater was right next to him, he was raising his wand—

                “Keep flying!” Harry shouted, suddenly swerving in front of Draco. He knocked into the Death Eater, who slipped off his broom, but too late; the curse had shot out of his wand, and it hit Harry squarely in the chest. Draco saw Harry slump against his broomstick, and it was a few seconds before he remembered to grab him and stop him from falling. Clumsily, he hoisted him onto his own broom, the panic that had momentarily been shocked out of him now swelling once again. That Death Eater would come back, and when he did, they were done for. _They were going to die_.

                The thought seemed to jolt some of his panic out of him; he tightened his grip on Harry and kept flying; the Death Eater was nowhere in sight, and the others were behind them. _Keep flying_ , Draco thought, and as he was repeating this mantra, he felt something shift in the air around him; in the wet and cold, he felt a sensation similar to walking through a ghost at Hogwarts.

                Looking down, he realized that they had reached Harry’s neighborhood. They were safe. Glancing backwards, he saw that it was true; the Death Eaters were nowhere to be seen.

000

                Draco wasn’t sure how he managed to land. He had flown for another five minutes before he spotted Number Four. When he landed, he slung one of Harry’s limp arms around his shoulder and looked at the boy for the first time. _He’ll be fine_ , he thought desperately. Harry’s face was pale, his face was cut, and his glasses had fallen off sometime during the flight, but he was breathing. Draco had no idea what curse the Death Eater had hit him with.

                Slipping and sliding across the grass, Draco dragged Harry toward the Dursleys’ door. He rang the doorbell, shivering. When he got no response, he impatiently pressed it again.

                A few cold minutes later, Dudley opened the door. He stared at the pair of them with wide, blue eyes.

                “Are you going to let us in or not?”


	26. Chapter 26

                Dudley stood aside to let them in, still staring at Draco with open disbelief. Draco ignored this for the moment, dragging Harry with him over the doorstep.

                “Shut the door!” he hissed at Dudley, who blinked and complied.

                “What happened to you two?” Dudley seemed to finally have found his voice.

                “Never mind that now, where can I put him?”

                “Er,” Dudley said, continuing to stare at the pair of them. “Kitchen, I guess.”

                Draco immediately set out, dropping Harry into one of the kitchen chairs and sitting down himself. He buried his face in his hands. _Okay, think…_

Dudley had joined him in the kitchen.

                “What exactly are you doing here?”

                Draco sighed, pulling his head back up. “It’s complicated.”

                Dudley glanced between the pair of them, both soaking wet, scratched, and bruised, with Harry sagging unconscious against the kitchen table. He slowly exhaled.

                “I can see that,” Dudley said. “But I need some explanation. Before Mum and Dad get back.”

                Draco sat up straighter. “Where are they now?”

                “Out to dinner with one of Dad’s clients,” said Dudley, shifting uncomfortably. “If they come back and find you here—“

                “Right, right,” muttered Draco, running his hands through his damp hair. Now that the threat of the Death Eaters was behind them, they needed to focus on getting information to someone. But how were they supposed to do that, without wands or owls?

                “So, er—“ prompted Dudley, but Draco closed his eyes again. Now that he was on the ground, that the pumping adrenaline had left his body, all he felt was exhaustion; every ache and pain in his body throbbed, and a dull pain pounded in his temples. He rubbed them now, pops of color exploding behind his closed eyelids.

                “We got separated from Severus,” Draco said, eyes still closed. “The man we were staying with.”

                “And you couldn’t just, er, go back to his place?”

                Draco shook his head, but immediately regretted it; the pain in his temples increased, and he winced as he answered, “No. You-Know-Who sent Death Eaters after us.” He paused. “You do know who You-Know-Who is?”

                “Er—sorta.”

                _He’s only the man who murdered your cousin’s parents_ , Draco thought. “Well, he wants to kill Harry,” Draco said bluntly. “And we only just got away. Your house is one of the only safe places for him.”

                When Dudley made no further comment, Draco finally opened his eyes. Dudley was staring at him with complete shock.

                “You—you were almost killed?” he said, suddenly turning around and looking out the windows as if he expected to see Voldemort pressing his nose against the glass.

                “Yes, but he can’t get us here,” Draco said, impatient. “We’re all safe here. From You-Know-Who at least,” he muttered darkly.

                “And what’s happened to him?” Dudley asked, gesturing toward Harry.

                “He was hit with a spell. I’m not sure which. I-I think he’ll be all right.”

But he needed to do something. Draco could not continue to sit in the Dursleys’ spotless kitchen while Harry sat beside him unconscious.

                “I’m going to try and wake up,” he said, standing up, although every muscle in his body protested the action.

                “Will he be okay?” Draco thought he detected genuine concern in Dudley’s blundering remarks.

                “I think so,” he said, not sure if he believed it himself. “I don’t know what he was hit with.” He knelt beside Harry, taking one of his arms and feeling at his wrist. A pulse drummed away, weak but constant. Relief swept over him, and he briefly closed his eyes again.

                “Harry?” he asked quietly. He did not stir.

                Draco stood up now, gently lifting Harry’s head away from the kitchen table and propping him up in the chair once more. What should he do now? He had no wand, but even if he had, he was not a healer; he could not remember any of the potions or remedies his mother had used on him that did not require a wand, but was fairly sure that even if he had it would be much use here.

                “Get him a glass of water, will you?” He asked Dudley. It was all he could think to do.

                “He doesn’t look good,” Dudley said, handing the glass to Draco, who scowled.

                “Of course he doesn’t look good, he just got cursed by a Death Eater,” he snapped. Ignoring Dudley, who hovered over his shoulder, Draco tipped back Harry’s head and brought the water up to his mouth. For a moment he thought nothing would happen, but then Harry started slightly, coughing.

                “Harry!” Draco gasped. Harry cracked open his eyes, staring at them blurrily.

                “Where are we?” he asked, voice slurred.

                “The Dursleys’,” Draco replied.

                “Tha’s good,” Harry murmured, head lolling back down.

                “Wait!” Draco said. “Drink.” He pressed the glass back to Harry’s lips; he obediently swallowed the water.

                “Listen,” Dudley said, who was now looking at Harry with open concern. “You’ve got to go.”

                “What?” snarled Draco, turning around to face him. Without Draco’s support, Harry’s head dipped back down to his chin. Draco half-glanced at him, swore under his breath, then returned to Dudley.

                Dudley held up his hands. “Listen, it’s not me. If Dad gets back and sees you—I don’t want him to get hurt.”

                “He’s already hurt,” said Draco, turning over Dudley’s words.

                “I mean more hurt,” Dudley pressed on. “You know my dad—“

                “I do,” Draco said coldly. He could not believe that the man would harm Harry when he was already so weak and injured, but hadn’t he seen him do the same thing before? But where could they go? They needed to get word to Dumbledore, and while waiting at the Dursleys’ wasn’t exactly getting them closer to that goal, it was better than being out in the streets with an unconscious Harry Potter in tow.

                “Your parents,” Draco said. “Do they ever go in Harry’s room?”

                “Harry’s room?” said Dudley. “No, why would they?”

                “Brilliant,” Draco said wryly, more to himself than to Dudley; he was reviewing the facts before him coldly and analytically, and the answer before him was the one that made the most sense, even if it did not offer the most comfort.

                “I need you to help me get him up to his room,” Draco said.

                “ _What?_ Have you gone mad?”

                “No,” said Draco, voice calm now that he had reached his decision. “We’re going to stay up there tonight.” It was the best plan he could come up with; the option of taking Harry, in such an injured state, to sleep outside for the night was simply unfeasible. “You’re going to bring us some food and water,” Draco continued, ignoring Dudley’s mutinous look. “And you’re going to make sure your parents don’t get the sudden urge to visit Potter’s room, understand?”

                Dudley looked like he wanted to disagree, but took a look at Harry’s slumped form and nodded.

                Draco walked toward Harry, but Dudley interrupted. “I can take him,” he said, easily picking him up. Draco grabbed the glass of water and followed him up the stairs, toward the little bedroom that he had come to loathe almost as much as Harry did.

                It looked nearly the same as when they had left it; Draco doubted whether any of the Dursleys had set foot inside the cramped room. Dudley laid Harry down on the bed.

                “I’ll get some food,” he muttered, ducking out of the room.

                Draco looked at Harry, lying pale and hurt on the thin mattress, and felt something push in his chest; he was glad, just then, that Harry was unconscious and unable to see where they were. He reached down and took the glasses off his face, folding them and setting them down next to the glass of water on the nightstand.

000

                The night was almost as bad as the ones they had spent on the run; maybe it was worse. Dudley had brought them up some food and more water, closing the door behind them. Draco had forced himself to eat, though he hadn’t been very hungry. When he heard Vernon pulling his car into the driveway, Draco had tensed, feeling conscious of every breath he took. However, Vernon and Petunia hadn’t noticed anything unusual about the closed bedroom door, and had gone about their nighttime routine as usual. Every step, every twist of the tap, every loud noise had caused a sharp stab of fear in Draco, but eventually the Dursleys retired for the night, Vernon’s loud snores drifting over to them.

                And still Harry did not stir. Draco checked his pulse every few hours, maybe more, but it drummed on steadily, defiantly. Draco himself had retired to the nest of sheets and old blankets that Harry had so often inhabited, but sleep would not come to him. He tossed and turned on the wooden floorboards despite his exhaustion, and he only managed to slip into sleep in the small hours of the morning.

000

                “Draco?” The voice was whispering, rough and scratchy. Draco pulled his eyes open with great effort; he felt like he was breaking the surface of some very deep water beneath whose waves he had been dwelling.

                “ _Harry?_ ” It was: Harry was sitting up, rubbing the back of his head, glasses back on his face, peering down at Draco in the semidarkness.

                “What happened?” Harry whispered urgently. “Are we--?” He was looking around at their surroundings, comprehension and dislike dawning in his eyes as he did so.

                “Shh,” Draco said, sitting up and pressing a finger to his lips.

                Harry nodded, winced slightly, and continued to survey the room. Finally, he got up, wincing again, and crept toward the window.

                “How did you get away from the Death Eaters?” he finally asked, sitting next to Draco and lowering his voice.

                “I was lucky,” Draco whispered back. “We were near the barrier when you got hit.”

                Harry exhaled, gingerly reaching up and touching the side of his face, which was littered with cuts and bruises. “I feel like hell.”

                “Look like it, too,” Draco quipped before he could stop himself; both boys grinned in spite of the situation.

                “We’re alive, though,” Harry said, and there was some amazement in his voice. “How’d you get us past the Dursleys? Any of this come from them?” he asked, indicating his injuries with a weak smile.

                “Your cousin helped me. Your aunt and uncle don’t exactly know we’re here.”

                Harry stared at him. “ _What?_ ”

                “Shh!” Draco said again, for Harry’s voice had risen. Harry looked around, anxious, but the Dursleys appeared not to have heard, for the sound of footsteps did not disturb the still night air. Harry continued to stare at him, apparently unable to think of anything to say.

                He finally settled for a strangled, “We have to get out of here.”

                Draco glared at him. “I know that, Potter. Even if he had anywhere to go, I couldn’t take you when you were half-dead.”

                Harry leaned back, apparently thinking deeply. Draco watched him for a few minutes before glancing out the window over his head; the darkness just seemed to be lightening. He guessed it was around four in the morning.

                “We’re leaving,” Harry said suddenly.

                “What?”

                “We’re leaving. Now,” said Harry, standing up. He gave the room another look of distaste, as if he could not get out of there fast enough. Draco stood up as well, slightly confused.

                “But where are we going?”

                Harry merely shook his head, pressing a finger to his lip. He gestured for Draco to follow him.

                Draco did so, holding his breath as they passed by the Dursleys’ rooms and crept down the stairs. Harry pointed at one of the steps near the bottom, indicating for him to skip it. They had just reached the front door when a sharp voice called out, “Who’s there?”

                Draco saw Harry freeze in front of him, hand on the doorknob.

                “Go!” he whispered furiously, but it was too late; Petunia Dursley, thick yellow cleaning gloves on her hands, had entered the front hall. One gloved hand leapt to her chest, and the three of them stared at each other for one long moment. Draco glanced sideways at Harry; he seemed stuck, unable to speak. Before Petunia could so, Draco opened his mouth.

                “We’ll be going. Don’t mention this to your husband.” He wrenched open the front door, gripping Harry’s arm and half-dragging him along the garden path and down to the sidewalk. Draco saw Petunia peering at them from the front window. When she noticed Draco watching her, the curtains twitched shut.

                “Okay,” said Draco, turning back toward the still half-frozen Harry. “Where are you taking me, Potter?”

                This seemed to jolt Harry out of his stupor; he gave a weak grin. “This way. Just a few blocks over.”

A/N: Thank you for reading! Let me know what you thought. On another note, I feel that this story should be winding down within the next 5-10 chapters or so. Is there any interest in a sequel? I have a few ideas in mind, but I’d love to hear if people would like that!

               

               

               

 

               

               

               

               


	27. Chapter 27

“And where exactly are we going?” Draco asked, following along in Harry’s wake.

                “Mrs. Figg’s,” Harry said, glancing over his shoulder.

                “Excuse me?” Draco asked, utterly confused. Who on earth was Mrs. Figg? And how did someone with magical connections live in this muggle dump?

                “My neighbor,” Harry said, grinning at Draco. “She’s a squib, but she should be able to contact Dumbledore. “

                “Let me get this straight,” Draco said slowly. “There was somewhere we could have gone besides the Dursleys’, but you chose not to share that with me?”

                “Not exactly,” said Harry. “I wasn’t really sure how far the wards extended, but it look like they’re surrounding the whole neighborhood. Didn’t want to take the chance,” he added, at Draco’s mutinous look.

                “Look,” Harry said, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk, Draco nearly running into him. “I’m not really clear on the rules of the wards, see? You and Dumbledore were able to apparate right outside of Number Four when he dropped you off.”

                “Yeah, okay,” Draco admitted grudgingly. “You still could have told me the eventual plan, though.”

                “Not with you going on about crashing the Weasleys’, I couldn’t,” he said, though his tone was light. “Don’t question me and you’ll be in the loop next time.”

                “Shut up, Potter,” Draco growled, shoving his hands into his pockets.

                “Lighten up,” Harry said. “We just escaped _Voldemort._ ”

                Draco winced. “What have I told you about saying that name?”  

                Harry ignored this, humming under his breath as he walked. Draco thought it was rich of Harry to be telling him to lighten up, when he was the one who had just saved both their skins, and had had to keep them hidden in the Dursley house with those damned muggles. He couldn’t help the slight pricklings of resentment he felt, watching Harry strolling along as though he didn’t have a care in the world, and he shoved his hands deeper into his pockets.

                Harry stopped again, pausing outside a little house on a street named Wisteria Walk, interrupting Draco’s thoughts of ill-use.

“Here we are.”

 000

                When Mrs. Figg saw them, standing bruised and bloody on her doorstep, she let out a cross between a shriek and a moan, hurrying them inside and peering owlishly out at the street around them.

                “Dumbledore’s been worried sick about you two,” she said in her wheezy little voice, pushing both of them into chairs at her kitchen table and supplying them with tea. Harry couldn’t help laughing as he watched Draco staring at the multitude of cats sprawled all over the place, especially when one tried crawling into his lap.

                “Thanks so much,” Harry said again, sipping at his tea; it tasted pretty terrible, but he thought it would be impolite to refuse. “Really.”

                Mrs. Figg waved away these thanks, picking up one of her cats and bouncing it slightly as she stared out of her window. She had just sent a letter off to Dumbledore, with an owl that looked old and slow enough to rival Errol. Harry thought they might be here for a while. After all the stress of the last two days, he found he didn’t mind sitting in Mrs. Figg’s stuffy kitchen for a while.

                “Is your house connected to the floo network, by chance?” Harry suggested after a few moments of Mr. Tibbles attempting to paw his way into Draco’s lap.

                “Floo! I completely forgot, I hardly ever use it.”

                Harry smiled at her, ignoring the muttering coming from under Draco’s breath.

                “Let me just find the floo powder,” she said, and tottered away into a different room.

                “Turns out it doesn’t matter that those Death Eaters didn’t kill you, Potter, because I’m going to do it anyway.”

                Harry ignored this threat. “Mr. Tibbles has taken quite a liking to you,” he said instead. Draco continued to glare at him, and they could hear Mrs. Figg moving things around in the next room.

                “By the way,” Harry said finally, no longer laughing. “Thanks for getting us here. For getting me to the Dursleys’.”

                Draco snorted, but Harry thought he saw his expression soften.

000

                Once Mrs. Figg had managed to floo Dumbledore, the rest of the day’s events passed with dizzying speed. Dumbledore himself apparated to Wisteria Walk, bestowing Mrs. Figg with a kiss on each cheek, and one on her hands; he thanked her for ensuring Harry and Draco’s safety, then apparated with Harry and Draco directly back to Hogwarts, explaining that he had temporarily lifted the apparition ban directly into his office to ensure they got to safety as quickly as possible.

                “Take a seat, boys,” Dumbledore said once they had landed in his office; it was exactly as Harry remembered it, except the spindly silver instruments that he had smashed in his fit of anger seemed to have repaired themselves, and were now gently purring and whirling. Fawkes sat on his perch, looking a bit young, his tail not quite as magnificent as it would be when he reached his full growth.

                Dumbledore settled himself into his chair, peering at the two of them over his steepled fingers. Harry shifted, once again feeling that Dumbledore’s stare was peering straight into his soul.

                “Now,” said Dumbledore, and Harry noted something serious in his tone, despite the fact that he did not raise his voice. He shifted again, wiping his palms on his jeans. “I doubt there is any need for me to impress upon you the gravity of the situation.”

                Harry and Draco exchanged a quick look, then shook their heads. Dumbledore continued to peer at them for an uncomfortably long time; the silence was too much for Harry, who spoke.

                “We’re sorry, sir,” he finally said. “We—we didn’t mean for this to happen.”

                “I did not think that you did,” Dumbledore said, his eyes grazing over the cuts and bruises littering Harry’s face. “I would like to hear your account of what has happened.”

                Harry swallowed, then launched into the story, not really meeting Dumbledore’s eye as he did so. Draco picked up every so often when Harry trailed off.

                “And then, a Death Eater hexed me and Draco got us to the Dursleys—“

                “You were hexed?” said Dumbedore sharply.

                “Yeah, but I—“

                “You should go to the Hospital Wing, I think,” he said. “So we can have Poppy make sure it was nothing dangerous.”

                “I don’t think I need to,” Harry said.

                Dumbledore smiled. “Both of you need to go anyway.” He said it gently, but the order was still clear. “We can finish discussing this matter at a later date, I think. Time for some bed and rest.”

                Harry stood up, resigned. Draco made to stand up as well, but Dumbledore raised a hand. “Would you mind waiting here for a little longer?” Dumbledore said. Draco was confused, but lowered himself back into his chair.

                “Let me take you there, Harry,” Dumbledore said, leading the way out of his office.

000

                Harry followed a few steps behind Dumbledore. He still wasn’t sure how he felt about the Headmaster, especially considering what had happened between them at the end of the last year, and the fact that they had yet to talk about the Dursleys. He knew he deserved Dumbledore’s anger for the mess he and Draco had gotten into, and his feelings of guilt contrasted oddly with his stirrings of anger and shame; it was all a confused blur, one thought or emotion melting into the other, but he didn’t have the energy to process it right now. Exhaustion and pain tinged the edges of his mind, along with the remnants of the terror he had experienced the past few days.

                The spiral staircase took them to door behind the stone gargoyles, and they walked in silence through the empty corridors. Harry briefly reflected on the quiet of the castle, of how strange it was to see the passageways free from students at this hour of the day, but the thought flitted away. After a few more steps, Dumbledore paused, placing a hand on Harry’s shoulder.

                “Just a word,” Dumbledore said, stepping into the shadow of a small alcove. Harry followed, forcing himself to meet Dumbledore’s gaze with some effort. His face, half-hidden in shadow, was creased with emotion; it reminded Harry of how old he had looked when he confronted him at the end of last year.

                “I am very proud of you, Harry,” he said. Harry blinked; where was this coming from? “And,” he continued, “I know that we still have much to discuss. I have not forgotten.”

                Harry now found it almost impossible to look into those searingly bright eyes; he looked down, mumbled, and nodded, but Dumbledore seemed to understand what he meant.

                “Let us go, then.”

000

                Draco sat alone in Dumbledore’s office, trying to ignore the shifting and muttering of the portraits on the wall, all of whom seemed to be watching him out of the corners of their eyes. He closed his own eyes then, leaning back against his chair; right now, he would give anything to be able to sleep, to not have to think or worry for a few hours. He wasn’t sure how long he had been sitting like that when he heard the door creak open.

                He sat up straighter, opened his eyes, and turned around.

                “Thank you for waiting for me, Draco.”

                Draco didn’t know what to say to this, so he said nothing. He watched as Dumbledore settled himself back into his chair. He wondered if the man were here to further chastise him, to let him know that he knew everything that had happened was Draco’s fault. Draco couldn’t muster any strong feelings toward this thought; let Dumbledore say what he wanted to say.

                He briefly thought about how the last time he had been in this office, Dumbledore had been telling him that he would have to live with Potter for the summer; he was thinking how much had changed since then, when the Headmaster interrupted his thought and it darted away.

                “I know you are tired, so I will try to be brief,” Dumbledore said. Draco thought he looked unusually grave, and braced himself.

                “I just wanted to update you on what is happening with Severus.”

                Draco sat up. With everything that had been going on, he had completely forgotten about the fact that his godfather was still infiltrating the Death Eaters, taking for granted that he must be back at Hogwarts by now.

                “Is he okay?” 

                “I have not spoken to him, but I have no reason to believe he has been harmed.”

                “You haven’t—haven’t spoken to him? At all?”

                “No,” said Dumbledore. “Situations like this have come up before. He has gone longer without sending messages. I do not want you to worry.”

                Not worry? How could he not worry?

                Dumbledore seemed to know what he was thinking; the look in his eye as he smiled at him was a little too understanding for his liking. Draco looked away, his mind now considering the very worst possibilities. How could he have been so tired only a few minutes ago?

                “Time to join Harry in the Hospital Wing, I think.”

                Draco followed mutely.

000

                By the time Draco and Dumbledore reached the Hospital Wing, Harry was already in bed, curtains shielding him from view. There was another curtained bed at the end of the Hospital Wing, but Draco didn’t have much of a chance to look at it. As soon as he arrived, Madam Pomfrey steered him toward his own bed, waving her wand in a series of little flicks and loops.

                “No major damage,” she said, her cool hands turning his face and feeling his pulse.

                “Perhaps just some dreamless sleep potion for now,” Dumbledore suggested, watching Draco closely. Madam Pomfrey bustled off to fetch the potion, and returned a few moments later with a purple potion which she handed to him.

                He gulped it down, and a few moments later he felt unconsciousness enveloping him. He gladly leaned into it.

000

                Voldemort didn’t let Severus out of his sight for the days while Harry and Draco were on the run. Severus could do nothing to check on them, nothing to contact the Headmaster. As the hours and days slipped by without any sightings of the boys, the Dark Lord waited patiently, only occasionally letting out his frustrations in the form of violence; a few careless Death Eaters were _Crucio’_ d, but still the Dark Lord waited, waited…

                And along with him, Severus did the same. He could only take the fact that the boys had yet to be caught as good news; he did not even consider the possibility that some greater misfortune had befallen them. Perhaps they had already gotten themselves to safety, slipped through Voldemort’s fingers, though he could see no way that would be possible. Guards were placed around the wards of every place it would have been completely safe for the boys, and those guards were there twenty-four hours a day.

                Every time a new report arrived from a Death Eater, Severus had to quell the utter panic that rose within him, especially as the days wore on. Voldemort paced around, stroking Nagini or twirling his wand, sometimes sweeping out of the room for some unknown destination. Severus listened carefully for any noises during these times, any shouts of glee or rage from other parts of the house, but all was silent.

000

                Severus was sitting at his desk, copying down the reports from the early hours of the morning, when he heard the scream. It was high and cold, and there was no mistaking the fury echoing off the walls. Someone had brought bad news. Before he had any time to process what this meant, the Dark Mark seared across his arm, the pain sharp and long. He closed his eyes for a second, then stood and made his way toward the source of the scream.

                When Severus reached the room, a dark, wood-paneled study, the rest of the Death Eaters had already apparated there. He took his place in the circle, ignoring the trembling of the man standing next to him.

                “You are all here,” Voldemort hissed, his eyes narrowed into slits. “Because you have failed.”

                The ramifications of these words echoed around the room for a sickeningly long moment. Then—

                “ _Avada Kedavra_.”

                The disgraced Death Eater fell to the floor with a thump. Voldemort turned his wand on the circle of men standing around him.

                “ _Crucio_.”

A/N: Hello all! A bit of a transitional chapter here as I move into the final phase of this story, but I hope you still enjoyed it!


	28. Chapter 28

                It was dark when Severus woke up. He blinked a few times, then shifted tentatively as his eyes adjusted to the total blackness. He sat up, surveying the fuzzy shapes around him. He prodded at one of them, and his hands met flesh. Another Death Eater, then. He remembered. A rush of angry words, a flash of bright green, then more flashes, red and red and red. He didn’t recall any of his own pain; unconsciousness had blotted it out, but he felt the familiar aches and tingles throughout his body, sure signs of a recent Cruciatius Curse. His eyes were as well adjusted as they were going to be now. He noticed the cloaked figure near the window, his hand silently stroking a large, coiled snake that lay on the windowsill.

                Voldemort seemed to hear the noises of Severus stirring; he inclined his head half an inch to the right before turning to face him.

                “Severus,” he said softly. “Come.”

                Severus complied, picking his way through the bodies strewn across the floor. The landing was dark, and he followed the Dark Lord, the only light coming from the moon shining through the windows every few feet or so.

                Voldemort brought them to the dining room door, flicking it open with his wand. Nagini slithered through it at their feet, and Severus tried to ignore the dull nausea churning in his stomach.

                “Sit,” Voldemort said, and Severus took the proffered chair. Voldemort settled himself at the head of the table.

                “This mishap is…unfortunate,” Voldemort finally said. Severus waited; he knew how to read the Dark Lord, could tell by the way his syllables and accents fell if he should answer him, could read the simmering rage beneath apparently calm words. Now he waited.

                “Something has to be done.”

                Severus did not know what he meant, but he could tell that it was something dangerous.

                “What did you have in mind?” Severus said.

                Voldemort did not answer for a few minutes.

                “I need to consider the matter further. But,” he said slowly, “something will need to be done at Hogwarts.”

                “At Hogwarts, My Lord?”

                “Yes,” said Voldemort. “We have infiltrated before. We can do it again.”

                “It would not be…impossible.”

                “Nothing is impossible for the Dark Lord.”

                Severus inclined his head.

                “I will need you there. When the time comes.”

                “Of course, My Lord.”

                Voldemort raised his slitted, red eyes to Severus’s. Severus met them unflinchingly, and Voldemort smiled coldly.

                “Very good. Now get off to Dumbledore. You have some excuse for your absence?”

                “Yes, My Lord. I will say that I was away gathering rare potions ingredients.”

                “Very well,” said Voldemort. Severus understood his dismissal and apparated into the night, ignoring the icy stab of fear he felt at the thought of Voldemort’s latest plan.

000

                When Harry woke up that morning, he didn’t realize where he was. Everything was so warm and soft and comfortable he didn’t want to open his eyes, didn’t want the lovely darkness to end.

                When it came to the point that he couldn’t pretend to be asleep anymore, Harry opened his eyes. Everything was blurry, and it took him a minute to remember that his glasses were on the bedside table. He put them on and sat up in bed. The light was warm and soft, streaming through the tall windows and lighting up the mostly vacant room. Harry got out of bed and pulled the curtains open from around his bed; there was another curtained bed to one of his sides, which he assumed was Draco’s. He glanced to his other side and received a small, pleasurable jolt at the sight of its occupant.

                “Remus is still here?” Harry asked Madam Pomfrey, who had just bustled over from his bed carrying a potion-laden tray. She set it down on his bedside table and nodded.

                “Full moon a few days ago,” she said quietly, handing him a vial. “And he was already so weak from that incident, poor thing.”

                “He’ll be alright?”

                “Yes, yes, he should be up and about in no time.”

                “What’s this?” Harry asked, turning the vial she had offered him in his hand.

                “Pain reliever mixed with nourishing potion,” she said. “Now drink.”

                Harry titled the potion back and swallowed it in a few gulps, handing it back to Madam Pomfrey with a grimace.

                “Dumbledore should be stopping by soon,” Madam Pomfrey said as she took the empty vial back. “He said to wait here for him.”

                Harry nodded as she headed back to her office. He sat back down on his bed, his hands pulling at a stray thread he found on the comforter. After a few minutes of nervous picking and pulling, he noticed the freshly laundered robes laid out at the foot of his bed and pulled them on, then sat back down and waited for Dumbledore.

                Harry wasn’t sure how much time passed before Dumbledore arrived, only that it seemed far too soon. He knew what conversation was coming and he didn’t want to have to have it now; couldn’t it wait for another time? Or perhaps they could just ignore the issue, as they had for all these years. That thought stung, and he swallowed against the sudden feelings that burned in his throat.

                “Harry,” Dumbledore said, once he had swept into the Hospital Wing, long silver robes trailing out behind him. “Feeling better?”

                “Yes, sir,” Harry answered. Perhaps Dumbledore seemed to notice the strain behind his words, for his eyes seemed to focus more sharply on Harry’s. Harry looked down.

                “I thought,” Dumbledore said quietly, “we might take a walk outside?”

                Harry understood that the question was open for him to decide. He nodded, and followed Dumbledore out of the Hospital Wing and out into the sunny grounds.

000

                It was far too beautiful outside, Harry thought. The sun kept peeking out from behind the light smattering of clouds in the perfectly blue sky, and a light breeze lifted the edges of the leaves and the grass. Hagrid’s hut sat cheerily on the corner of the grounds, even though the curtains were drawn and no smoke was rising from its chimney. The entire thing, the sloping grounds with the little cluster of greenhouses on one side and the wide lake and the ruffling edge of the Forbidden Forest and the Whomping Willow creaking in the distance—all of it made another lump rise in Harry’s throat, one that was much harder to swallow.

                He and Dumbledore walked for a while in silence until they finally reached the lake. Once they had started circling it, Dumbledore spoke.

                “I know that you have been through rather a lot lately,” he said quietly. “But as I have told you before, I find it is better to talk things out as soon as possible—especially things that have gone unsaid for far too long.”

                Harry was silent beside him.

                “As I told you last term,” Dumbledore said, “I placed you in your relatives’ care because I believed it was the best place for you. The wards there were stronger than any protection even I could have devised for you. I thought, if Voldemort were to come back sooner than later, it could save your life.”

                Harry still did not speak. He had heard this all before. He thought he even understood it. But he didn’t want to hear it, hear Dumbledore’s reasoning behind it; that just made it more difficult to bear.

                “I understand, sir,” Harry said quietly. “I—I don’t think we need to talk about it.”

                Dumbledore stopped walking then, and Harry reluctantly paused beside him.

                “Harry,” he said. “I have done a great disservice to you. As often happens, I have overlooked the smaller details in place of the bigger picture. Even though those smaller details often turn out to be the most important.”

                Harry could not bear it. He could not bear to look into Dumbledore’s lined face, which suddenly looked so much older to him than it had before. He could not bear to see the sorrow in those blue eyes, which he had so often felt were piercing into him, were understanding him. Why couldn’t he understand now that Harry didn’t want to talk about it? That nothing Dumbledore could say would make it okay, could quell the sick feeling in Harry’s stomach?

                “I am very sorry, Harry,” Dumbledore finally said, when Harry did not respond.

                “I know, sir,” said Harry quietly. And he did. “Can I go now?”

                Harry left as quickly as he could, leaving Dumbledore standing alone beside the lake, looking more tired than he had ever seen him. Harry tried to ignore the burning of his eyes on his back.

000

                Once he was out of Dumbledore’s line of sight, Harry walked more quickly; he didn’t know where he was going, only that he wanted to put as much distance between himself and Dumbledore as possible.  He found himself back at the Hospital Wing and pushed the doors open without thinking.

                Draco was still asleep, the curtains still drawn around his bed; Harry felt a sharp twinge of regret, and was turning to leave when someone spoke to him.

                “Harry?” It was Remus, his voice somewhat weaker than usual. He was sitting up in his bed now, his arms and chest bandaged, eating from a tray of food before him.

                Harry paused, and walked back toward him.

                “Hi,” he said quietly, dropping down into the chair at his bedside. “How are you feeling?” Harry thought it would be nice to focus on someone else right now; perhaps he could avoid how overwhelming it was to be himself at the moment.

                “Much better already,” Remus said, “Madam Pomfrey is brilliant at healing spells. I’ll be back to normal in no time.”

                “That’s good, good,” said Harry, not noticing the way he was running his hands through his hair and smoothing them over his robes.

                “Harry,” Remus said slowly, his brow creasing, “Are you alright?”

                Harry did not know how to answer that, and the quiet concern in Remus’s voice almost made tears spring to his eyes. He blinked these away impatiently and cleared his throat.

                “Yeah,” he said, standing up. “I just need to – to get going.”

                “Okay,” said Remus, and Harry was unbelievably grateful that he did not press the issue. “Would you come see me again, sometime, though?”

                “Of course,” said Harry, and he meant it; but right now, he could not stand to be around anyone. The need to get away was pressing at him as firmly as his need to leave Dumbledore had. He nearly knocked over the chair in his haste to leave, and he averted his eyes from Remus’s as he left as quickly as he had come.

000

                Harry wandered around the castle for a while, but he found the complete silence and emptiness unnerving, especially since most of the portraits stared at him or whispered loudly when he passed. He soon found himself outside again.

                He wandered around the grounds, letting the physical activity occupy his thoughts, enjoying the burn in his legs as he climbed the gentle slopes. He ended up back at the lake again, but Dumbledore was nowhere to found now. Relief washed over him as he slid down beneath a beech tree. He stayed there for a while, watching the sun reflect off the surface of the still water.

                Now, finally, he could not stop his thoughts from coming. There was nowhere left to run.

                He remembered long hours spent in his cupboard, hours so long he thought he would go mad in there; empty stomachs and fighting for scraps of food, sometimes picking them out of the garbage, he was so hungry; times when he wished even that his aunt would slap him, if it meant having someone touch him; punches to the stomach from Dudley and glasses snatched off his face, crunched beneath an unforgiving foot on the gravel of the playground; angry fists and biting words when Harry would make strange things happen on accident, and then the hours sitting alone in the dark afterward, trying to keep his tears quiet enough so as not to enrage his uncle further; and always, the aching, lonely feeling in his chest, the one that never went away, the one that peaked when he looked at his aunt and uncle and cousin and wondered why he couldn’t be a part of that, why they didn’t love him.

                And yet he had needed to do it, hadn’t he? He was Harry Potter. He had not been a normal little boy, even then; there were some things more important than being hugged and having your own room, weren’t there? There were some things more important than having to deal with a few slaps and not enough food, weren’t there?

                He squeezed his eyes tight, then, ignoring the wetness on his face. He wished he could feel anything else right now; he wished for blinding rage, anger that would leave him shouting and smashing things. But he didn’t feel that now, couldn’t. He wasn’t angry at Dumbledore, even though he wished, desperately, that he could be. He was too weak to be angry at the man who had left him there to rot for ten long years. Dumbledore’s sad blue eyes kept swimming in front of his vision, the tired, pleading note in his voice.

                And Harry understood that Dumbledore had done what he thought was best. He understood that sometimes, sacrifices were necessary. And that from him, they always would be.

000

                Harry didn’t hear the crunch of feet at first, snapping twigs and sharp grinding against the gravelly sand at the edge of the Lake. He didn’t notice that Draco had joined him until he was sitting down beside him.

                Neither boy said anything to each other. Harry did not bother to wipe the wetness from his face. Draco did not bother to hide his red-rimmed eyes.

                They sat like that, side-by-side on the shore of the lake, long after the sun had sunk behind the trees.

A/N: Sorry for all the angst, haha. I hope this chapter was worth the wait! As always, thank you for reading and let me know what you thought!

               

               


	29. Chapter 29

                Severus stood outside his home. Everything was still about the place; no windows were cracked, no doors jarred open. Even the wind seemed unnaturally quiet, the branches of the trees unmoving and sheltering around the little house. He surveyed the scene for a few minutes, allowing himself a brief break from the constant fear of the past few days.

                Then he set to work, deciding to check the house thoroughly despite the fact that he knew no one had been there. He swept through the kitchen, his bedroom, and his potions lab. All were undisturbed. In Harry and Draco’s room he found a wand peeking out from underneath the bed. He picked it and pocketed it. It was Potter’s. He must have cast it aside while looking for his broom and forgotten it. Idiot.

                Draco’s wand wasn’t in the house. Severus found it lying outside, a quick _lumos_ spell illuminating it. _Idiot_ , thought Severus again, but the thought was reflexive, blank. He pocketed Draco’s wand as well, then turned once more into the night.

000

                It was colder here, but Severus didn’t pay much mind to it. He swept as quickly as he could up toward the gate, raising his wand and muttering the quick series of spells that Professors used to get into the castle when they returned from business away. The gates creaked open, shutting immediately behind him after he entered.

                The walk up to the castle was long, but again Severus barely noticed; his mind was elsewhere, mostly on the two boys who had managed to get themselves here.

                The door to the Entrance Hall opened easily, and he followed the familiar path up to the Headmaster’s office. He hoped the Headmaster would be awake at this hour.

                He wasn’t disappointed.

000

                Dumbledore was sitting behind his desk, dressed in his long, purple dressing gown. Fawkes let out a soft, low cry when Severus entered the circular room.

                “Severus,” Dumbledore said, rising to his feet.

                “Sit,” Severus said, crossing the room and taking his customary chair across from Dumbledore.  Dumbledore lowered himself back into his chair. His eyes were sharp, his brow creased slightly in concern.

                “I am glad to see you are well,” Dumbledore said, eyes sweeping over Severus.

                Severus nodded. “How are they?” He asked without preamble.

                “They are shaken, but unharmed.”

                Severus nodded. “They are sleeping now?”

                “Yes. Draco will be glad to see you in the morning. The boy has been quite worried.”

                “And Potter?”

                Severus noticed the pain pass across Dumbledore’s eyes before he spoke.

                “He was hit with a curse,” Dumbledore said. “But he is recovering.”

                “A curse? What kind? Was Draco hit as well?”

                “It was some type of powerful stunner. Madam Pomfrey did a scan—there seemed to be no lasting damage.” He paused. “Draco was not hit. Harry flew in front of him and took the curse. Draco then brought them to safety.”

                Severus took this in. “Where did they go?”

                “The Dursleys _’_.”

                “The _Dursleys’_?”

                Dumbledore nodded again, steepling his fingers and looking down at them. “Yes. Harry took them to Arabella Figg’s once he recovered.”

                Severus leaned back against his chair.

                “I spoke to Harry this morning. About the Dursleys.”

                “And?”

                “He—he was Harry.”

                Severus thought he knew what Dumbledore meant. That annoyed him. He changed the subject.

                “The Dark Lord mentioned something to me before I left. He plans to infiltrate Hogwarts.”

                Dumbledore eyes sharpened. “I see. Thank you for informing me. “

He paused. “We can discuss this more later. Some sleep, I think, would do us both some good.”

                Severus got to his feet, nodded, and left. Dumbledore was right.

000

                Draco woke up early. His sleep had been fitful, restless. He knew he could have taken some more Dreamless Sleep Potion, but he had declined when Madam Pomfrey had offered. Somehow, it seemed like taking the easy way out.

                Madam Pomfrey still wanted them to sleep in the Hospital Wing. Something about making sure they were okay, monitoring them more closely. Draco thought that probably had more to do with Harry than himself, but he supposed he didn’t mind. It didn’t matter to him where he slept. He had bigger things to worry about.

                Draco glanced at Harry now. He hadn’t bothered to pull the curtains closed around his bed last night, so he could see him sleeping now, his breathing deep and even. Draco was glad. Harry had looked rough yesterday. He’d looked rough all summer. He deserved a little peace and quiet.

                Hoping to give him some of that, Draco changed out of his pajamas and crept out of the Hospital Wing as softly as he could.

                He didn’t have any destination in mind, but somehow he ended up back at the lake. He slid down beneath the tree he and Harry had sat underneath yesterday as the light dwindled around them. They had both sat in silence for a long time; Harry hadn’t spoken to him until they stood to make their way back to the castle.

                “Dumbledore talked to me today. About the Dursleys.”

                Harry’s voice had been hollow.  There had been nothing for Draco to say to that, so he had done the best he could: placed a bracing hand on Harry’s shoulder and led him out of the cold.

                The early morning was cool now, but not uncomfortable. He watched the sun rise over the lake, the rays hitting the water with dazzling sparkles. The water of the lake lapped gently every now and then; perhaps the giant squid was turning over lazily beneath it.

                Draco couldn’t believe they’d made it here alive. He picked up a smooth, round stone from the shore and turned it over in his hand, running his thumb against it as he thought about the past few days. He had been closer to death than he ever had before, brushing against it in a way that sent a shiver down his spine. He thought, perhaps, that this was the kind of thing Harry was used to. The thought sobered him; how could a young boy constantly deal with this? With roughing it and having to come up with all the plans, with no adult supervision, with Death Eaters trailing only a few feet behind you?

                Death Eaters. Perhaps Severus was among them now, being tortured or worse…

                Draco shivered and dropped the stone, wrapping his arms around himself. He’d never forgive himself if something happened to Severus because of him.

                Never.

                He knew, he’d come to realize, that things couldn’t be about him all the time.

                He’d come to realize his godfather’s sacrifice more clearly than ever before. It had become sharply, painfully outlined by the events of the last few days. Draco had felt, for the first time, the coppery taste of pure fear in his mouth at the thought that maybe Severus had risked too much this time.

                Lost in these thoughts, he almost didn’t fear the sound of approaching footsteps.

000

                Severus stood a few feet away for several minutes, watching Draco as he sat by the lake. Any anger he had felt toward his godson ebbed away as he watched him wrap his arms around himself. He had been foolish, yes, but he was just a teenage boy. _And so was Potter_. Things had been far too difficult for them lately.

                He headed toward Draco, who looked over a second before he lowered himself down next to him.

                “Severus,” he said, his voice slightly hoarse.

                “It is good to see you, Draco,” he said, and he stiffened slightly as Draco leaned into him. He relaxed a fraction, and put a bracing arm around the boy.

                “I’m sorry,” he muttered into Severus’s shoulder.

                Severus was quiet for a while.

                “Me too,” he finally said. Then he cleared his throat. “Tell me what’s happened to you.”

                Draco recognized the shift and sat up. The words poured out of him, a torrent he couldn’t stop. He told Severus about the pounding fear, about flying and sleeping in the woods and dying their hair, about the long, rattling train ride and then the bus and then the walking, and then _Death Eaters chasing them_ , and then—

                “Harry took the curse, and then I somehow got us to the Dursleys. We had to hide out there in his old bedroom for the night. It was….”

                Draco trailed off, unable to finish.

                “I see your hair is back to normal, at least.”

                A small smile tugged at Draco’s lips. “Madam Pomfrey changed it back. Said we looked awful.”

                “I’m sure it did.”

                They were both quiet for a while.

                “I—“ Severus cleared his throat. “I am very proud of you Draco.”

                Draco closed his eyes and nodded.

000

                Severus stayed with Draco for a few hours. Most of it they just sat in silence, breaking it every now and then to talk about what had happened. Draco tried asking him about his time with the Death Eaters, but besides giving him the basic information, he deflected the questions as gently as he could.

                Around noon, Severus said he was going to head back to the castle. Draco decided to stay outside for a little while longer. Severus nodded, his eyes lingering on Draco’s for a moment before he headed back up to the castle.                

                There was no denying something about the boy had changed.

                It wasn’t anything dramatic. He still looked the same, still spoke with the usual Malfoy drawl and snark, still had the same mannerisms; but there was something different in his eyes. Maybe no one would notice it if they didn’t know the boy well.

                And Severus had the uncomfortable suspicion that it had to do with Potter.

000

                He found him sitting in the Great Hall alone, slurping at a bowl of soup. The customary House tables were gone, replaced with one, long table. Potter was the only one sitting there.

                Severus’s footsteps echoed as he made his way toward the boy, who had looked up immediately, a wary look crossing over his features.

                “Potter,” he said, dropping down into the seat opposite him.

                “Sir,” said Harry, lowering his spoon.

                They stared at each other for a few seconds; Severus easily saw the worry flash across the boy’s eyes. He never had been a good Occlumens.

                “I was just speaking to Draco. He told me all about your little adventure.”

                “I wouldn’t call it an adventure, sir,” Harry said. Severus sensed the tense undertone, ready to spring forward should he press it.

                He restrained himself.

                “You took a curse for him.”

                Harry blinked.

                “Er—yeah.”

                Severus watched the boy shift, apparently uncomfortable with the way his own dark eyes were boring into his.

                “Thank you.”

                “Thank—what?”

                “I said thank you, Potter.”

                He stood up and left, leaving Harry very confused.

A/N: I am so so sorry I’ve taken so long to post!! School and work have been keeping me extremely busy, and I’ve just gotten my first break this week in quite a while. I know this chapter is a bit on the short side but I wanted to post something, so I hope you all enjoyed it!!

On another note, as I’ve mentioned before, this arc of the story is winding down. I think I have some ideas in mind for a story taking place in sixth year. I haven’t decided yet if I’ll add that on to this story, or make an entirely new sequel, but stay tuned! Next month I should have the last few chapters of this posted, so thank you all for reading and reviewing!

               

               


	30. Chapter 30

                Harry stood in the Owlery, looking out one of the openings that served as windows in the circular stone wall. Hedwig stood perched on his arm; she had showed up that morning as Harry sat alone in the Great Hall eating his breakfast. He had been surprised, pleased, and slightly ashamed—in the rush of everything that had happened, he had barely had time to wonder where Hedwig was and if she would be able to find him. She had been allowed to come and go as she pleased at Snape’s house, often gone for days at a time, sometimes returning with a dead mouse clamped in her beak, ready for a nip of water and a nap.

                But she had found him, as she had found him before, and he stroked her feathers now as the sky outside slowly darkened and melted into evening. It had been an odd day.

                After breakfast, Harry had followed Hedwig up to the Owlery, where she promptly settled down for a nap. He had watched her for a few minutes, earning himself a few glares from some round, yellow eyes, before he left with no destination in mind.

                He had been doing this a lot lately, wandering around the castle and the grounds in an attempt to blank his mind. Today didn’t feel as bad, though. Harry wasn’t sure why. Nothing had changed; his relationship with Dumbledore was still as tense and fractured as ever, and all the wounds that went along with it still stung and chafed; Snape was still Snape, no matter what thanks he gave to him; he still didn’t understand why everything had happened the way it had, or where exactly he stood with Draco Malfoy—would things go back to normal now that they were no longer bonded by the confines of his small room on Privet Drive, by the fact that the chains of fear and flight no longer bound them tightly together?

                And yet, despite all that, the panic and fear that had been clawing around inside him lately seemed to have stilled, at least for a little bit. It was a wonderful feeling, even if it didn’t involve feeling much of anything.

                Harry turned a corner, stopping abruptly. He had almost run into someone. It was Professor Lupin, who had just dropped the battered suitcase he had been holding in one hand.

                “Sorry, Harry, almost ran into you,” he said, stooping down to pick up his suitcase.

                “I didn’t know you were leaving already,” Harry said, feeling guilt for the second time that day; he had forgotten that Professor Lupin was still in the Hospital Wing.

                “Yes, Madam Pomfrey just cleared me this morning,” he said lightly.

                “I’m sorry I didn’t come back to see you—“ Harry began, but Lupin waved a hand.

                “That’s quite alright, Harry. I’m sure you’ve had a lot on your mind.”      

                “Yeah,” Harry said quietly. “A bit, yeah.”

                Professor Lupin looked at him for a few seconds, then said, “Well, my train’s not for a few hours, if you still wanted to speak. Of course,” he added, “you don’t have to.” 

                “You know, that would be great actually,” Harry said.

                Lupin smiled at him again. “Anywhere in particular you’d like to chat?”

000

                They had ended up outside, stretched out beneath the familiar beech tree near the lake. Harry wasn’t sure why he had done it, only knew that he had to: if he didn’t tell someone about it, about everything that had happened, he wasn’t sure that clawing panic would ever go away.

                Professor Lupin had listened, calmly and patiently. He didn’t interrupt, not even when Harry told him about the Dursleys and he clenched his hands so tightly in his lap that they turned white, not when Harry told him about his grief for Sirius or Snape’s Occlumency lessons or running from the Death Eaters. The words tumbled out of him; he felt what he had once felt while telling Dumbledore and Sirius about what had happened in the graveyard, that feeling that he was extracting a poison from himself through the act of recollection and sharing.

                And after it was all done, he felt that same calmness he had felt that morning return to him.

                He sat with Lupin by the lake for a long time; he had asked Harry questions then, asked him to clarify certain things, offered his thoughts and apologies.

                “I’m sorry I haven’t written, Harry,” he said, some time later, after they had exhausted themselves through conversation for the time being and were sitting in silence. “My work lately—with the werewolves—has made contact with others difficult.”

                “I understand,” said Harry.

                Lupin smiled sadly. “Sirius—I understand how you feel. He was my best friend,” he said, very quietly. Harry nodded.

                “You’ve been here a while,” Harry said. “When’s your train leaving?”

                Lupin consulted his watch. “About an hour, I’m afraid.”

                They both stood then, silently walking back toward the path. When they reached it, Lupin turned toward Harry.

                “I’ll keep in touch,” he said, bracing a hand on Harry’s shoulder. Harry nodded, gave him a smile, and watched him go until he was out of sight.

000

                Harry hadn’t heard Hedwig’s soft hoot, but he felt the gentle nip on his fingers and lifted her toward the window. She looked at him, then set off out the window. He watched her long white wings coasting toward the forest, watched until she was a white speck that vanished from view.

                He wondered what would happen next.

                For the first time all summer, the thought didn’t worry him; it didn’t carry the anger he had felt at Snape’s, the fear he had felt in the forest, the sadness that had drained him while talking to Dumbledore. The thought was clear: where would he go from here?

                Harry realized his birthday had passed without his noticing. Time this summer hadn’t been measured in the ways it normally was, through hours and days; it had passed in the spaces between fights with his uncle, in the blurs between meals, in the shifting of the forest leaves.

                He remember thinking on his thirteenth birthday that he was lucky to have made it that far; he thought it again now, as he watched the sun sink beneath the trees, the warm golden glow slowly fading away.

                Yes, he was lucky to have made it this far. He didn’t know what would come next.

                For now, he would settle for the simple things: a hot meal, a warm bed, and the chance to see Ron and Hermione. As he turned away from the window and headed downstairs, he couldn’t keep from grinning as Ron’s freckled face swam to the surface of his mind, wearing the look of disgust and indignation Harry imagined would be there when he explained to him that he had spent the entire summer with Draco Malfoy.

 

A/N: As you’ve probably realized, I’ve reached the end of this story. I can’t express my thanks enough to all of you how have read and commented on the story: you’ve been what’s kept me writing this story, even when it seemed like stopping would be easier.  So again, THANK YOU:)

I wasn’t sure where I wanted to end this story, but once I started writing this chapter, these moments of Harry’s contemplation and reflection just seemed right to me (he deserves it after all I’ve put him through).  

On another note, I do think I’ll be continuing on with a sequel. I have some pretty exciting ideas, so make sure you’re following me so you’ll get an email when that’s posted!

Happy reading!  


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